


Brutally Beloved

by Tophats_and_Teacups



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal, Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Humiliation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tophats_and_Teacups/pseuds/Tophats_and_Teacups
Summary: One year after the defeat of the dark lord, Harry got his dream job. Three years after, he married his highschool sweetheart. Seven years later, he's suffocating under the tedium, but he's been managing to stick to the future he chose. Memories of the past only threaten to upset his carefully balanced survival.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	1. An Unwelcome Surprise

“Harry, make sure you stop by the Leaky Cauldron after work. Neville owled that he has something for you.” Ginny called through the kitchen as Harry hurried to button his Auror’s robes. He was running late, as usual, and was already in a poor mood, from his bad dreams.  
“Why couldn’t he just send it with the owl?” Harry grumbled, pulling on his boots, and running a hand through his messy hair in a futile attempt to tame it.  
“Too big. What’s with the temper?” Ginny responded, setting two plates of toast and eggs on the kitchen table. Harry shook his head, and forced a smile as he stood.  
“Sorry. Just didn’t sleep well. No time for breakfast.” He lamented, checking the clock on the kitchen wall. He gave her a swift peck on the cheek, and headed for the Floo, dissolving into the flames with a handful of powder before he could even hear her farewell. It was one of the rare days when he could hardly look at her, for the rage twisting in his gut. Not at her, she’d done nothing wrong, of course. But at himself. The days had been coming more and more frequently where he couldn’t meet his own eyes in the mirror. Where Kingsley spoke to him about being too aggressive with his suspects. The days were becoming rare when he felt happy, and satisfied.  
He couldn’t stop thinking of HIM. And he hated that his thoughts were pulled like gravity, constantly falling back to what he had given up…  
“Morning, Potter.”  
“Auror Potter.”  
“Morning!”  
It was the usual assorted greetings he’d gotten, every day, for the past five years. And this morning, he hated them. They were evidence of how predictable, and mundane his life had gotten. Even chasing down Dark wizards, the occasional magical battle, he felt simply bored. His life, exciting as it may seem to the wizarding public, had grown dull. ‘Colorless’ someone had once said. He’d rather liked that expression. He could clearly see that that lampshade was a hideous shade of green, that Ginny’s hair was as red as ever, that his office was lined with colorful quidditch and wanted posters, but the world just seemed faded.  
So he did all he could to trudge forward, every day, keeping what little happiness he had grasped firmly in both hands. Ginny, for all he wasn’t in love with her anymore, was still someone he loved. Sunday dinners with the Weasley family were always happy. Ron and Hermione had a baby now, and he enjoyed holding her.  
But still, when he walked through the Ministry corridors, he felt as if his face was made of cardboard. A fake, half-smile rationed out to every coworker, but he couldn’t force the expression onto his face when his work took him to the courtrooms. They always brought up memories. It was, afterall, where it had all started going downhill.  
Harry mechanically did his Monday paperwork, and went for his noon lunch. He was eager for the afternoon. It all seemed to go faster after lunch. Then he could go home. And… and when he thought about it, he wasn’t sure why he was in such a hurry to get home. Nothing terribly exciting would happen. But it was a goal, and he could achieve it.  
* * *  
By the time his workday ended, Harry had nearly forgotten about his business at the Leaky Cauldron, and was eager to at least escape the seeming neverending buzz of paper whizzing into his office with new memos. He rushed through the corridors, taking the less populated route, knowing the main lifts would be so crowded, it would be faster to take the long route, and the out-of-the-way lifts. It was also a perk that he hardly ever saw anyone going this way, and didn’t have to pretend he’d enjoyed his day trapped there with them. He’d almost made it, when his senses told him something was off. He was being followed. He stopped, but before he could pull his wand out, his stalker spoke up.  
"Potter."  
The familiar voice sent an automatic shiver up his spine, and a matching wave of sheer panic through his chest. It couldn't be.  
He turned, looked into familiar, burning eyes, and was thrown headfirst into memories. He'd hoped to put all recollection of this man from his mind, but at the sight of him, he could nearly still feel the warm hands on his skin, the short nails digging into his lower back, and slow, wet kisses that had left him breathless, and aroused.  
"Malfoy… I thought you'd left the country?" He narrowed his eyes, and kept his voice steady, conversational, and a touch unwelcoming.  
"I had. Disappointed it wasn't permanent?" Malfoy sneered back. Harry struggled not to let his face show any disappointment, or the excitement that was suddenly welling up in him.  
"I don't care what you do. " He asserted, even as he looked the other over, inspecting the changes that his three years away had brought.  
His hair had grown out, and Harry was nearly reminded of Lucius, except that Draco wore his hair loose. His face wasn’t the same haughty expression that his father wore, either. It was still hateful, but differently so. More personal. Harry felt his heart squeeze painfully with both guilt, and resentment for the man that stood before him. He looked healthy, minus the dark circles under his eyes. He held a folder in one hand, and Harry noted that he must have had business in the Ministry.  
“Clearly.” Malfoy said in a chilly tone, his eyes darting to the lift just behind Harry. He’d had the same thought of avoiding the crowds. Harry didn’t like that. Harry also didn’t like how the look insinuated that he wanted to escape. As if HE was somehow the one mistreated by his showing up here. Harry tried to think of a nonchalant way to turn, and run to the lift, slamming the door closed so Malfoy couldn’t join him. There was no possible way. So he’d have to suffer.  
“I was just on my way out. Excuse me.” Harry finally said, turning to head to the lift. Malfoy scoffed wordlessly, but he heard the soft footsteps follow him. Harry swallowed nervously. Why was he here? Why now? It was almost as if he’d been summoned by Harry’s dreams. But that was silly. He probably just had some estate paperwork to file, before he fled back to France, to hide with his wife. Harry felt a twist of jealousy at that thought. He’d married Ginny first, but somehow, Malfoy marrying a woman that had dark hair and green eyes had seemed like a pointed stab in his direction. He remembered letting the wedding invitation he’d received burn over a candle as he watched it smoulder. Ginny had been upset over the scorch mark it had left of the table, and Harry had had to tell her it’d been a howler.  
Harry punched the button for the Atrium on the old elevator wall, and stood to the side, clearly leaving room for Malfoy to stand away from him. He rather liked the feeling of shoving the button in as hard as he could. It was much more satisfying when he was upset than politely telling the lift what floor he wanted. Malfoy entered the lift, checked the button, and stood aside, taking the space Harry had left him. As the grate closed, and the walls began to slide past, they stood, surrounded by a heavy silence. Harry felt the same lump in his throat and shortness of breath as he’d felt when he’d seen the wedding invitation. He wanted to say something, but there was nothing to say. He refused to exchange banal pleasantries with Malfoy in lieu of real conversation. With the air heavy with unspoken words, Harry couldn’t help recalling what he liked to think of as ‘the first incident’. The beginning of his downward slide, and the last time he and Malfoy had really fought.  
He’d been in the courtrooms, after the war, testifying on behalf of the Malfoys, explaining how Narcissa had lied to keep him alive, and the Malfoys had all switched sides…. He hadn’t even realized Malfoy was there, until he’d been exiting the courtroom…

XXX

_He’d known people would be angry that he’d kept the Malfoy’s out of Azkaban, so he’d done his best not to look at the stands of onlookers. So he’d missed that the Malfoys themselves were in attendance for his speech. He was surprised when a hand caught him outside the courtroom, and yanked him around angrily to face Draco Malfoy.  
"What the hell, Potter? What was that?" Malfoy had demanded angrily, looking incensed.  
"It's called a testimony. " Harry replied blandly, unimpressed with Malfoy’s anger.  
The blond in question opened and closed his mouth angrily, trying to respond several times before he finally did manage to speak.  
"I don't need your pity or your charity!” He spat. Harry was impressed by the sheer self-centeredness of the statement.  
“It wasn't about you at all! Your mum saved my life, so I owed her." He explained, feeling his own anger rise. He hadn’t felt so truly angry since… since Ron had left. It’d been months since the war was over, and he’d already been having problems. He’d been paranoid, always on edge, waiting for the next evil to pop up. He’d entered the Auror training program as soon as they’d let him, but it never seemed like enough to keep him occupied, or peaceful.  
He couldn’t remember everything that he and Malfoy had shouted at one another, only that they’d earned nasty looks from other exiting witnesses of the trials, so they’d retreated into a nearby men’s room to argue about whether Harry’s testimony was a way for him to humiliate and offend Malfoy. But the privacy the locked door the toilet provided was too much of an invitation for them to fall back into rowing schoolboy habits. He wasn’t sure whether he, or Malfoy had been the first to lash out, but one of them had, and without the limelight on him, without worry of being seen in such a state, Harry had thrown himself into the scuffle with the careless brutality of someone who was unbothered by the public eye. Someone who didn’t care if he was seen as the hero. Someone who was feeling raw, and desolate after a catastrophic end to his childhood.  
It had started as an old-fashioned fistfight: a punch to the gut, an elbow to the nose, and a handful of hair, but as clothes were torn, bruises formed, and blood dripped, the tenor of the struggle had changed, and Harry had found himself lip-locked with Malfoy, still fighting against one another as they kissed. It had been vicious, brutal, and unlike any kiss Harry had had before. It had taken a few moments for them to come back to themselves, and when they both seemed to realize, they shoved away from each other. Harry had wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and Malfoy had pulled a face of absolute disgust.  
Harry had let Malfoy scurry from the men's room in a fast escape, too shocked over what had happened, and too afraid it might recur, if he tried to stop Malfoy._

XXX

But that had been seven years ago. He closed his eyes, and tried to push the inconvenient memory away. He felt as if he was suffocated, trapped in the lift with Malfoy, and when it stopped, he knew it was cowardly, but he rushed from the confined space, toward the apparation point. He apparated straight home, and was through the door, calling out his arrival for his wife before he slowed. The house was silent. He paused, and listened. He could tell Ginny wasn’t home. He had no idea where she might be, but then, he remembered what she’d asked of him. Shit! He’d forgotten to stop by The Leaky Cauldron! He felt a brief stab of relief that she wasn’t home, that he’d be able to go and come back before she realized he’d forgotten. He didn’t want another row with her. Especially when he felt so troubled after running into Malfoy. He was sure he’d say something across the line of bickering, and right to hurtful.  
He left the house, and apparated to the pub, barely noticing that it had started to drizzle. He came in from the back to an unusually full bar. It seemed to grow louder as he entered, and it took his ears a moment to register the cheer that went up.  
“SURPRISE!” The entire pub seemed to shout. Harry took a startled step back, eyes darting around the crowd, recognizing every single face. He mentally checked the date, and realized with a profound level of stupidity that it was his birthday. He dutifully plastered a wide smile on his face.  
“Ginny?” He found her easily, and she, followed by what seemed to be the whole room, congratulated him as she suctioned herself to his side, and he started through the crowd. He was slowly headed to the bar. He needed a VERY stiff drink. It seemed like some horrible carousel of people wanting his attention, spewing pleasantries, and clapping him on the shoulder. He did love his friends. He enjoyed spending time with them all. But today was not a good day…


	2. Seen

“Congratulations, Potter.”   
The same voice that had ruined his afternoon was back, and he was worried for a moment that he was beginning to hallucinate. But when Ginny wheeled them around to face the new partygoer, he felt his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t be here. The smile slipped, unbidden from his face, and he did his best to mask whatever it was he was feeling with irritation.  
“What are YOU doing here?” He asked. Ginny patted his arm reassuringly.  
“I’d heard he was back in the country, so I invited him. I know that before he left, you two were sort of becoming… well, not ‘friends’, but… I just thought it would be nice to invite him.” Ginny gave him a look full of meaning, and Harry, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out what meaning that was. He looked around for Hermione to interpret, but she was at the far end of the room. He shook his head slowly, and pasted his best smile on. He couldn’t disappoint Ginny after she’d gone to so much trouble for this party.  
“The more the merrier.” Harry said, getting a small vengeful happiness from watching Malfoy’s expression twitch as he processed the familiar words. Harry knew from the way his smile stretched to one side in a sneer that he remembered saying those words himself, the last time they’d spoken before he left for France.  
“Cheers.” Malfoy replied, and lifted the glass he was holding in toast to Harry’s subversive pettiness. Ginny grinned, glad that they’d decided to get along. Harry knew she had no idea what she’d just done by inviting him.  
“I think I’ll have another drink.” Harry excused himself, kissing Ginny’s hair as a brief goodbye, so she’d be forced not to follow him. He heard her start up a conversation with Malfoy as he turned away. She was trying. So hard. He felt bad for not being able to give her more. But really, she’d been the one to ask him to get married. He wasn’t sure what she expected, but was certain it had included more than he’d given her.  
“Ogden’s.” He ordered from Neville’s wife at the bar, glad that she was a quiet type. She nodded, and poured his drink with a quiet smile. He offered her one of his rare, real smiles, and turned to let his fake smile stretch his lips as he observed his party. Ron was already well drunk, and Hermione was dotingly carting him around the room, rolling her eyes with good humor as he chatted far too loudly with every person they passed.   
“It’s funny, really. None of them can see you’re not really smiling. Some friends.” Malfoy was next to him, ordering another drink for himself, and his voice was pitched low enough for only Harry to hear. Harry pretended he hadn’t heard, and managed to keep his lips stretched in false happiness. But Malfoy seemed determined to ruin his night further.  
“Though, none of them noticed you fucking me, so...” He shrugged, and walked off, his face carefully showing a haughty disinterest in the gathering. Harry felt rage in his belly. How DARE Malfoy say that, out loud, surrounded by Harry’s family, and closest friends? What if someone had heard him? He swallowed his drink in one gulp, set the glass down, and followed after the blond, determined to set some boundaries.   
“Malfoy!” He tried to keep his voice light, knowing that someone would hear, someone would be watching. There was always someone in a crowd, with their eyes on him. Malfoy kept walking, and Harry nearly let his smile slip as his face instinctively wanted to snarl. He had to keep himself in firm check as he took Malfoy’s elbow. “Malfoy. A word?” He made it clear it was not an invitation, but a demand. Malfoy shrugged, and let Harry lead him through the crowd. When Harry was forced to let go, he was surprised that Malfoy kept following, his face just as carefully disinterested as ever, though he did smile at a few people they passed.   
“Harry, is something wrong?” Ginny was there, blocking his way, and Harry forced his smile wider.  
“Nothing’s wrong, Gin. I promise I won’t let him goad me into a fistfight.” Harry promised with a forced chuckle. He couldn’t let that happen for multiple reasons. “Just want a quick word about party etiquette.”  
“Alright…” Ginny gave him a small smile, and Malfoy a tight-lipped one. She wasn’t positive they wouldn’t fight, but she didn’t want to make a scene. Harry smirked to himself as he finally had his back to the whole room. Sometimes, being so familiar with someone made it easy to say the right thing to diffuse a potential disaster.   
He led Malfoy out the back door, and into the small, closed off alley. He shut the door behind them, and leaned against it, blocking it with his body, so no one could come out after them ‘accidentally’. Malfoy faced him silently, head tilted at an insolent angle.  
“‘Party etiquette’, Potter? Really? What, you’re worried I’ll ask some embarrassing question, or spill my drink on someone?” He sneered. Harry mimicked his mocking expression.  
“No. I’m worried you’ll spout something personal, too loudly, just to ruin my life.” Harry retorted. Malfoy gave him a look then. A long look. One that made Harry feel like squirming. It was a look that said Malfoy was reading him. It was strange, knowing Malfoy could read him easier than even Hermione could. Malfoy had seen him as no one else had. He’d known what was inside Harry before even Harry had.

XXX

_“What are you, blind?” Malfoy’s startled exclamation was due to Harry running right into him. He met silver eyes, and suddenly was seeing him across a men’s lavatory, instead of in a Ministry hallway. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he and Malfoy had ended up snogging. It was as though no matter how many times he revisited it, his brain refused to process it correctly, and kept sending it back to the forefront. It refused to be stored securely in some vault. Malfoy’s silver eyes were full of hatred, but as Harry froze, trapped briefly by his own panic, and memories, he saw Malfoy’s eyes flicker between his own, and then to his lips. He was just as scarred over the event as Harry was. It was a small comfort, knowing that.  
“Don’t you say a fucking word, Potter.” Malfoy hissed, leaning just close enough to issue the warning without it echoing down the hall. Harry felt his heart skip as Malfoy leaned in. He leaned away, making his face express repulsion.  
“Say what, that you tried to kiss me?” Harry taunted, unable to stop himself from goading the blond. He’d had a shitty week, and suddenly, here was Malfoy, already being intolerable, and perfect for a little venting. Harry wouldn’t even mind another black eye, if it brought the same kind of relief their last fight had brought. It had calmed his paranoia, in a way. Settled his life into a routine. Instead of some unnameable evil to worry about, there was Malfoy. A very real threat to his existence, and one he had to avoid at all costs. But it had been three months since the men’s room. And that spark of sanity and that small anchor of having something to worry about had started fading.   
“Shut your FUCKING mouth!” Malfoy shoved him into the wall, and Harry felt like he’d already won, provoking such a response.  
“Worried someone will find out you fancy me?” Harry chuckled, not lifting a hand to defend himself as Malfoy grabbed him, a look of pure murder in his eyes.  
“I don’t fancy you, Potter. I can’t even fucking STAND you.” His hand was around Harry’s throat, pinning Harry against the cold stone corridor with an uncomfortably tight grasp. Harry knew he could break out of it easily, knew from his Auror training, that he could win any fight Malfoy thought to start. So he egged him further.  
“Oh please. You’ve always been obsessed with me.” He hissed, feeling an alien, cruel smirk take over his face. Malfoy looked absolutely livid, his face scrunched in a snarl, his breaths coming in short, ragged, angry huffs. Harry knew he was going to throw a punch.  
It still hurt when Malfoy’s fist found its way into his gut, and he lost his breath for a moment, doubled over, into Malfoy’s angry hands. Malfoy grabbed a handful of his hair to pull him back upright, and Harry winced, as a few roots were yanked out by the rough yank. For a brief, gasping moment, Harry felt helpless. He hated that feeling. He’d worked so hard not to ever feel that way again. Never to feel as if he could be shoved into a cupboard for doing nothing wrong, as if he had no control over the path his life could take. He knew the muggle term was PTSD, but knowing it did nothing to quell the surge of panic. He lashed out, before he’d even caught his breath, his body automatically moving in the forms he’d trained so hard on recently. He twisted Malfoy’s arm, got his own arm around his neck, and swiftly switched their positions, slamming Malfoy into the wall behind him as he turned, pinning him from behind, the captured arm twisted behind his back, the grasp Malfoy had had on his hair completely broken, as the blond hissed in pain at the sudden angle of his shoulder. Malfoy’s cheek was pressed into cool stone, and Harry watched as he closed his eyes, not struggling against the already painful hold. He’d expected a headbutt, or him to kick backwards, as they’d been taught to be ready for, but he just breathed in ragged breaths. Harry smirked, and let him go. Malfoy turned, pressing his back to the wall, and opened his eyes to glare at Harry’s smirking face. Harry leaned in to the glare, his smirk widening, challenging Malfoy to try again.  
But he’d found it hard to smirk with Malfoy’s lips crushed to his, and teeth pulling at his skin. He was SURE Malfoy had started it, this time, but it didn’t seem to matter. Malfoy’s passion was so violent, that even fighting back felt as if he was reciprocating. Which he wasn’t. He wasn’t agreeing to ANY of this, but Malfoy had his tongue between his teeth, and so he HAD to retaliate. But slamming himself forward, into Malfoy, seemed to have the exact opposite effect. There wasn’t enough room for him to hit Malfoy hard enough to hurt him, and instead, he was then pressed against the warm, writhing body, and it had the strangest effect on him. He’d felt himself getting aroused by the battling of their bodies, and as Malfoy dominated the kiss, Harry felt the need to take it over. He couldn’t be helpless. Not even in this.  
So he grabbed Malfoy’s face, shoved his knee between his legs, and tore his mouth away from the demanding, angry tonguing. He forced Malfoy’s head out of his way, and sank his teeth into the blond’s throat, letting go after barely a second, only to leave another sharp bite, lower. Malfoy pushed at him futilely, making harsh sounds of pain as Harry avenged his own mouth’s abuse. He could feel the unmistakable hardness of Malfoy’s arousal pressing into his lower belly. He knew it should disgust him, he hated Malfoy, he wasn’t into blokes, and he’d never even thought of making out so ferociously before. He’d always thought it should be sweet, caring, or passionate. Not painful and bruising.  
He was distracted by a soft clicking sound. The sound of a nearby door opening. He practically shoved himself away from Malfoy, and did what he could to straighten his robes before the intruder came into sight. Malfoy didn’t seem to care about how he looked. He took off, escaping up the hallway, past the opening door, without bothering to even run his hands through his messy hair. Harry smiled, and bid the intruder good day. It was a woman he almost recognized, but couldn’t name. He knew she worked in the Ministry though and waited until she’d passed him to begin walking. He realized Malfoy was getting away, and thought he should probably catch up to him, and set some things straight. He had to make sure Malfoy understood that this hadn’t been enjoyable. He’d just wanted to win the twisted game Malfoy was playing.  
He hurried toward the Atrium, and managed to catch him just as he got to one of the large fireplaces used for Flooing.  
“Malfoy!” He grabbed the other’s arm, and kept him from throwing the handful of green dust. “Wait.”  
Malfoy turned, a look of surprise being wiped away by a snarl.  
“Get off of me!” He hissed, his eyes darting around the Atrium. Harry rolled his eyes.  
“I just wanted to say-” Harry began, but he was cut off by Malfoy grabbing him. The blond took one last look around the Atrium, looking for any witnesses, and then he pulled Harry into the fireplace, his arm wrapped around his waist, keeping Harry’s body pressed against his in the tight space as he tossed down his handful of powder, and called the name of his home.   
The ride was short, and nauseating, and Harry stepped from the grand fireplace, ready to shout at Malfoy for kidnapping him. He turned and was met with a wand in his face. He froze, taking a moment to read Malfoy’s expression. He looked ready to use the wand in his hand, and Harry swallowed. He knew Malfoy was better with a wand than his fists, and with his already drawn, he had the clear advantage.  
“I swear to god, Potter, if you go shouting through the Ministry about trying to fuck me in a corridor, I will kill you.” Malfoy threatened. Harry wasn’t willing to gamble his life on whether Malfoy was bluffing or not.  
“Oh, god, Malfoy! I wasn’t trying to fuck you! Get OVER yourself!” He argued. But he hadn’t even THOUGHT of that until then. Suddenly, his mind was flooded with the thought.   
“Oh really? Then what was the next step of your grand plan, Potter? From where I was standing, it seemed an awful lot like you were about to start pulling clothes off.”  
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he realized… it had been true. He’d been pulling Malfoy’s shirt from his skin, so he could assault more of him. But… It hadn’t really been sexual, had it? He found he couldn’t answer that. Not honestly. For whatever reason, he’d LIKED overpowering Malfoy. In more than just a vengeful way, and different than the relief of defending himself.  
“I was winning. That was all.” He finally said, though even he didn’t believe it. Malfoy laughed at him, until Harry found more words to throw at him like knives. “YOU’RE the one who started it! Why the fuck did you kiss me again?” Harry forced all the outrage and offense he could into that question, and for a moment, Malfoy seemed speechless.   
“To prove a point. And, apparently, point fucking proven. You can’t keep your damn hands off of me, Potter. I’m not the one obsessed.” Malfoy finally ridiculed, and Harry hated him more than ever. He couldn’t POSSIBLY know that Harry’s thoughts had been obsessively drawn back to that first incident. He couldn’t possibly have even guessed that Harry had touched his swollen lips afterward, when he’d been inspecting the bruises from the fight in the mirror, and been able to still taste Malfoy on his tongue.  
“I’m not obsessed with you, Malfoy, you slimy git! I don’t WANT to put my hands on you, ever, and you getting off on fighting with me is nothing but disgusting!” Harry lied, itching to grab Malfoy round the throat, and throttle him. Part of him wondered if Malfoy would enjoy that, too. Probably, weird pervert that he was.  
“Really? Then leave.” Malfoy stepped aside and held a hand out to the fireplace, welcoming Harry to go straight back to the Ministry, and his rotting, restless, paranoid life of nothing but paparazzi and waiting for the next attack. He tried. He really did try his best to walk confidently past Malfoy, and back to ‘normal’. But the look on Malfoy’s face was one of pure challenge. Harry wanted to wipe that look from his face, and make him regret ever troubling him. _

_Before he knew it, he was lying naked on a huge bed, with only a silk sheet draped across his hips, staring at the ceiling of Malfoy s bedroom. He was sore, scraped up, and bruised, but he knew Malfoy had it worse. He couldn't bring himself to look at the man next to him, to face his shame. So he rolled from the bed, pulled on his clothes, and left without a word. After all, what was there to say after such a mistake?_

_XXX_


	3. Keeping a Distance

“I thought these were your friends, Potter?” Malfoy’s sarcastic drawl brought Harry’s mind abruptly back to the present. The summer night air was warm around them, and he could hear the muffled noises of the party behind the door at his back, the soft drizzle of rain just beyond the cover they stood under. “Still keeping secrets from them? Why? ashamed?”  
“What about you, Malfoy? Have you told your wife? Is that why she’s not here with you? Found you sucking someone else’s cock, did she?” Harry shot back. Malfoy’s face went cold.  
“She’s dead. And yes, she knew. I told her about a year ago.” Malfoy said, leaving Harry reeling with shock. Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.  
“Oh.” Was all he could manage to say. Malfoy looked away, and took a breath of the still air. “I’m sorry. How did it happen?” Harry asked, his anger immediately doused as guilt and sympathy took its place.  
“Childbirth.”  
“You’re a dad?” Harry asked, sure that it was the wrong thing to take away from his statement, but unable to refrain.  
“Yeah. It’s still really strange, actually.” Malfoy gave a small, private smile, and Harry’s heart fluttered at the sight. It was a loving smile, and one that made him long for the past. “Doesn’t feel quite real unless I’m holding him.”  
“What’s his name?” Harry asked. He could just picture the little blond baby.  
“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.” He answered with a completely straight face, Harry wasn’t sure how he managed.  
“Of course it is.” Harry snickered. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Harry felt as if everything was back to normal. As if the past five and half years had never happened. As if any moment, Malfoy would insult him, and he’d be forced to kiss him.  
“Fuck you, Potter, it’s a fine name.” Malfoy declared, crossing his arms. Harry’s grin slid from his face. He could feel it coming. The moment it all became too much, and one of them would leave. He knew it would probably be him. His chest was already starting to ache from looking at Malfoy. But Ginny was right inside, his whole family was in there, and he was out here. With Malfoy. There it was. The moment he realized he was alone with Malfoy, and he had to leave before something happened.  
“I can’t do this.” Harry suddenly announced. “You may have told your wife, but I haven’t. I can’t hurt her like that, Malfoy. And don’t YOU dare say anything to her.” Harry warned, before he yanked the door open, and went back into the party. He took refuge in his fake smile, and the people that acted as a barrier between him and Malfoy. He knew Malfoy wouldn’t say another word about their past. Not with so many people. Not even to be cruel. Not with a child that might be affected by the outcome.  
He eventually found himself sitting near Rose’s small trolly, watching over her while the rest of the Weasleys mingled. He didn’t mind in the least, and he let the baby chew on his knuckle and watched her return his smiles as he spoke to her.  
“Well, that just warms the heart.” He did his best to ignore the mocking drawl, but the blond head ducked into his field of view, getting a better look at the infant.  
“She’s making a mess of your hand, Potter.” Malfoy observed. Harry smiled down at the sloppy mess of his hand.  
“I don’t mind.” He glanced up at Malfoy, and quickly looked back to the baby. He absolutely could NOT engage in the look Malfoy was giving him. It was one of his scarce looks of open contentment.  
“Harry’s amazing with babies, isn’t he?” Ginny said from next to him surprising Harry with her presence. He hadn’t realized she’d approached.  
“He is. Maybe he should come nanny for me. Scorpius is a handful.” Malfoy mused, looking down at Rose thoughtfully. Harry glared at him. He knew that Malfoy had said it in front of Ginny, knowing he’d be unable to refuse without looking like a monster.  
“I heard you had a son! I’m sorry about your wife, though...” Ginny said, suddenly full of curiosity. Harry rolled his eyes, not bothering to voice his opinion on the obvious trap Malfoy had set.  
“Where do you keep hearing all this from?” He muttered, more to himself than anything. Malfoy had heard him, though, and gave him a small smirk, before he turned to answer Harry’s wife.  
“Thank you. Any children of your own, yet?” Harry knew the slight narrowing of his eyes was an indicator of him fishing for something more than the answer to his question, Ginny glanced at Harry with a small, sad smile.  
“Not yet. Maybe someday soon. I’m not sure I’m ready to quit the Harpies just yet.” She answered. Malfoy’s smirk widened, and Harry knew he’d read SOMETHING in her answer. From that simple statement he couldn’t POSSIBLY have been able to tell that it had been a spot of argument for years between them now.  
“I see.” Was all he said, though, and Harry didn’t like the way his cunning eyes flickered between them. “Well, Potter, if you stop by Sunday, Scorpius will likely need a chew toy.”  
Harry gulped. He couldn’t say no. Not only would he look like a cad, but he just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the baby. And damn him, Malfoy knew it. He’d been had.  
“Alright. Sunday.” Harry shrugged. He didn’t ask what time. He knew it wouldn’t matter.  
“Oh no! I can’t come. I’ve got practice.” Ginny explained, with an almost convincing look of sorrow.  
“Oh, that’s a shame.” Malfoy said in a tone that was almost disappointed. But the way his eyes flicked to meet Harry’s was an unmistakable silent gloating. He’d get Harry alone, one way or another. Harry looked away. He knew what was likely to happen if he allowed himself to be alone with Malfoy. He always seemed to get under his skin, to make him lose his sense of control, and sanity. He could never help himself when Malfoy started up. And then it always escalated…

XXX

_“What the HELL did you do, Malfoy?” Harry whisper-shouted, shoving Malfoy into a broom closet, and slamming the door closed behind him. He’d managed to catch the blond coming out of one of the trials, and had pounced. He knew it wasn’t acceptable for him to interrogate a person of interest without it being on the record, but… he couldn’t just do nothing.  
“What are you on about, Potter? I haven’t done anything.” He snarled back. He crossed his arms, waiting for Harry to move so he could leave the closet, but Harry grabbed the front of his robes, and pulled him into a threatening stare.  
“You did SOMETHING, or there wouldn’t be an investigation. What was it?” He demanded, Malfoy frowned. A genuinely confused frown.  
“I haven’t done anything. I’ve been toeing the fucking line, Potter. All I’ve been doing, day in, and day out, is watching these damn trials, helping send my mother and father off to France, and avoiding you!”  
Harry was thrown. Malfoy had been avoiding him? Had that been why he hadn’t actually seen more than his back in a month? He tried not to let it bother him, but he suddenly felt guilty. He knew he’d been rough, but Malfoy had SEEMED to be into it. Not that it would ever happen again. He was sure. Never. Ever again.  
“Swear to me you haven’t done anything illegal.” Harry commanded, watching Malfoy’s face for any trace of a lie.  
“I swear. I’ve been a right fucking saint since my trial. I even cleaned the Manor out, so tell your Auror friends they’re welcome to TRY a raid. They’ll find nothing.” Malfoy snapped. Harry looked at him hard, deciding. He did believe Malfoy was telling the truth. He let his robes go, and took a step back, wanting suddenly to escape the way Malfoy’s smell surrounded him like an embrace. It brought up too many images.  
“Don’t worry. There won’t be a raid. Someone’s a liar, and I’m going to find out who.” Harry promised. He turned, and darted from the broom closet before Malfoy could get his snarky reply out. He’d wanted to kiss him again. That wasn’t a good sign at all. He’d craved the pounding of his heartbeat, the adrenaline that came with the violent way Malfoy encouraged him to be more rough. He wouldn’t allow himself to be pulled in again. He swore it to himself.  
But when he found himself on the steps of Malfoy Manor the next week, he knew exactly why he was there. His cheeks were red, and he nearly died of mortification when Malfoy answered the door.  
"Hey." It wasn't the greeting he'd expected. He'd been prepared for swearing, threatening, and a demand that he never return. But Malfoy just stood there, staring warily through the space between them.  
"Hey." Harry decided to respond. But his voice was hoarse, and he had to swallow, ruining the nonchalance he'd hoped to convey. So instead, he'd pushed his way through the door, and grabbed Malfoy's face to his in one of those hot, demanding kisses he'd just recently learned about. If Malfoy had had any objections, he'd been unable to voice them, as Harry had quickly dragged him into the nearest sitting room. He'd felt a little guilty as he practically tossed Malfoy on the fancy sofa. But still, Malfoy hadn't complained. He'd bitten Harry's lip when he tried to kiss him, nearly ripped out his hair from grabbing it so hard, but he hadn't said a word.  
They’d quickly gotten enough clothing removed for skin to touch, kissing and biting, and grabbing the whole time. Harry knew he was being too rough, but he couldn’t seem to gentle his hands, or calm their vicious kisses. He wasn’t really thinking, simply acting on what he wanted, and needed. He yanked at Malfoy’s clothes until enough of him had been revealed, and when Malfoy seemed to realize what his goal was, he gave a bit of struggle, pushing at Harry’s shoulders, growling a warning. Harry didn’t care. He knew from their previous encounter that Malfoy LIKED the pain, and the violence, so he grabbed his legs, pushed them up, and spread Malfoy like an offering. He transferred some of his own saliva to his hand, and slicked his cock, more for his own comfort than Malfoy’s, and with two short thrusts, he was inside the blond.  
Malfoy hissed with pain at the sudden intrusion, and Harry felt nails dig into his lower back. He ignored the groan, focusing on his own pleasure as Malfoy struggled, though less violently than he would if he’d ACTUALLY wanted Harry to stop. Harry suspected the struggle was more for his own pride than a desire to be free. As Harry had suspected, after a few difficult moments of holding him down, Malfoy seemed to relax, and his hands grabbed at Harry, pulling him in harder. The pitch of his voice changed, from angry grunts to longer moans of enjoyment. Harry closed his eyes, lost to the pleasure of the moment, unable to think of anything as he savagely fucked his enemy. There were more violent kisses, hands feeling skin, and a flood of noises that went straight to his core.  
Malfoy had come first, gasping in an almost feminine way as his fingers tried to tear Harry’s skin apart, his face open in that same perfect display of ecstasy that had made Harry come back. His mouth formed an o shape, and Harry was compelled to stare at him, until silver eyes were pried open, and looked up at Harry with a look of desperation. Harry had HAD to kiss him, then. And for a moment, the kiss had been gentle, slow, and he could feel Malfoy shivering with an overload of sensation as Harry’s hips refused to give him reprieve in his post-orgasm sensitivity. But the deep, almost tender kisses were too much for Harry, and he quickly found his own release. When he finally managed to open his eyes again, he found the familiar silver stare, and couldn’t seem to look away. They both huffed in breath, in a moment of silent satisfaction. Harry wanted to kiss him again, to feel Malfoy’s need for him, but having cum, his thoughts seemed to be returning with a screaming volume. The same must’ve been true for Malfoy, because suddenly, he shoved Harry, hard enough to push the brunette to the floor.  
Harry sat, stunned at the sudden relocation, and could only stare up at Malfoy in confused displeasure as he stood, and fixed his clothes.  
“See yourself out.” Malfoy had snarled, and stalked from the room, leaving Harry in a very confused, and angry heap on the floor…_

XXX


	4. Wanted

Harry was surprised when he apparated to Malfoy Manor, and the wards didn’t drop him outside the gate. Instead, he landed on the steps, just as he’d meant to. Malfoy hadn’t locked him out of the apparation wards. He was sure it meant nothing good.  
He knocked on the door, and the familiar house-elf opened it.  
“Master Potter, Master Malfoy is expecting you. Right this way.” She led him through the familiar house, and as Harry followed, looking around, he felt constant pangs of nostalgia. His first few times walking through here, he’d been reminded of the war, but now, he was reminded of a more recent past. He was reminded of arguments, whispered desires, and angry, desperate wanting.  
He heard the cooing before they entered the room, and he walked into the sight of Draco with a baby on his lap, hands holding feet, playing gently with the tiny form. Harry felt his heart squeeze painfully at the sight, and Draco looked up with a warm smile still lingering on his face that made the heartache that much worse for Harry.  
“The wife really didn’t come?” Malfoy asked, his warm smile changing to one of cunning and suspicion. Harry shook his head, and slowly approached, keeping his eyes down on the baby. He was so tiny! Smaller even than Rose, and he already had a head of white-blond hair. His dark blue baby eyes found Harry, and returned the big smile Harry gave him, gurgling happily up at him.  
“Scorpius, this is Harry Potter. Potter, this is my son.” Malfoy introduced, sitting the baby upright in his lap, for a more formal introduction. Harry grinned. He couldn’t help it. Babies always got right into his heart.  
“He’s beautiful.” Harry said, reaching out a hand to brush hair from his face. “He’s so small. Was he born early?”  
“Yes. Half a month early, due to Astoria’s health. She died shortly after, so at least she got to meet him.” Malfoy shrugged it off, but his face held a remorse that Harry knew would have been matched on his face had the same happened to Ginny.  
“Hm.” Harry mused, letting Scorpius wrap his tiny fist around his index finger.  
“Here. Hold him.” Malfoy urged, lifting his son, and pushing him on Harry before the brunet could deny him. His arms automatically wrapped around the tiny bundle, and he began rocking, smiling and cooing to Scorpius. Malfoy watched him, arms still slightly outstretched, as if Harry might drop him. Harry met nervous grey eyes, and snickered.  
“It’s fine, Draco, I’m not going to drop him.” He said, and a moment later, froze, realizing how familiar he’d been. For a moment, he’d been so lost in the moment, he’d forgotten Ginny, he’d forgotten the baby’s mother, and he’d forgotten that Draco was no longer the man he craved. They’d both changed. He’d gotten over his violent sexual urges, and seemed to have gotten over all sexual urges at all. He figured it was really for the best, since Ginny didn’t want children, not to risk it.  
“Just… Be careful.” Malfoy said, clearly deciding not to mention the flashback.  
“Oh, worried he’ll end up liking me better, cause I’m more fun?” Harry teased, speaking the words down at the baby in his arms. The baby smiled good-humoredly, and kicked his feet as Harry spun in a circle. Malfoy lurched forward as Harry danced away, keeping his son from him, smiling at the sheer joy of holding the tiny, but somehow incredibly weighty, little person. He’d always wanted one of his own. He’d wanted to start a family. But Ginny hadn’t been ready, She’d just gotten OUT of a big family. So Harry had waited. But now, holding Scorpius, with Draco chasing after him, he felt a surge of pure emotion, and happiness. THIS was what he wanted. He wanted a baby smiling up at him as he sang off-key, and hopped repeatedly out of reach as his partner gave chase. But that wasn’t right, Draco wasn’t his partner. He’d really never been. Harry slowed, his smile falling as he kept staring at the child that looked JUST like Draco. They’d been intimate, but… they’d never been public. They’d never been honest, even with themselves.  
Draco caught up to the pair as Harry felt a stab of melancholy into his very soul. He hadn’t even realized that he had feelings beyond the sexual for Malfoy until AFTER he’d agreed to marry Ginny.  
“Here. Sorry.” Harry let Draco take the baby from him, and stepped away, staring at the pair of blonds, he felt another sharp stab in his gut. Sure he and Malfoy had had a bit of fun, but he couldn’t really understand why, after all these years, such an insane whirlwind that they’d been in was still affecting him so deeply….

XXX

_After the investigation had ended with one of his mentors in chains, he’d told himself he wasn’t going anywhere NEAR Draco Malfoy, ever again. He’d succumbed to his animalistic self twice, and now it had to be out of his system… Or so he’d hoped.  
“Get off!” Malfoy shoved him, his face livid, half his body tangled in silk sheets as Harry fell to his side, cushioned by the plush bed. He wasn’t exactly certain WHY he’d thought coming here was a good idea, or HOW he’d ended up in Malfoy’s bedroom again, only that he’d come to tell Malfoy, face to face, that the investigation was over, and so was whatever they’d been doing the past few months. But with Malfoy, angry again, lying next to him, Harry realized he didn’t want to leave quite yet. He’d been angry about the traitor in their midst, he’d been ashamed that he’d slept with Malfoy, and he’d been feeling wholly unsatisfied with his life. But here, in Malfoy’s bed, he didn’t have to think about any of that. All he had to do was feel physically. Their violent, bestial couplings were almost calm, in that they left him no time to consider the other upsetting aspects of his life.  
Malfoy had almost gotten to the edge of the bed, ready to escape again, but Harry lunged after him, grabbing him back. He slammed the pale body back to the bed, climbed on top of him, and grabbed his face to keep him from yanking away as he looked down at the red-faced Malfoy. He wasn’t entirely sure if the color on his cheeks was from being screwed into another dimension, or humiliation, but he thought it was likely both. Malfoy snarled, and struggled, harder than usual, as Harry pinned him. Harry wasn’t surprised. He’d never stayed this long after finishing, and he imagined that Malfoy liked to sulk over their sexual battles as much as he did. But he was changing the game. Malfoy punched him in the side, and Harry winced, but leaned forward, pressing their lips together roughly, shoving his tongue into the other’s mouth. He didn’t care that Malfoy bit him hard enough to make his tongue bleed. He didn’t even mind that his hair was being pulled nearly out in an attempt to pull him away. He only cared that with Malfoy under him, the scent of him filling his nostrils, the sound of his panicked gasp as Harry began fondling him again, he was able to forget once more about the crumbling foundations of his world. A few moments into the kiss, Malfoy had stopped trying to remove Harry, and instead, was kissing him back, deep, gasping kisses that were nearly as good as the sex had been. Nearly, but not quite.  
It was calmer the second time, less painful all around, and the slow, deep kisses were like liquid fire, heating him beyond the fierce, driving need to punish Malfoy, and reach climax. It made him want strange things, and he gave in to them. He kissed all of the pale skin he could reach. He languidly fisted Malfoy’s hardening cock, and enjoyed the sighs of pleasure that were delivered to his lips. He nuzzled the smooth skin of Malfoy’s neck, and breathed in the scent of his hair, feeling it fill him with passion. He smelled of shampoo and sweat, and something Harry couldn’t name. Something that made his head spin, and his thoughts scatter. He brought his lips back to Malfoy’s and kissed him again, settling between his legs, gently spreading smooth thighs. Malfoy shifted, making Harry’s job easier, grabbing handfuls of Harry’s hair, but it was different, too. He wasn’t trying to yank it out .He was simply holding on, keeping Harry’s mouth to his as his legs parted, inviting him in. Harry took the invitation to heart, and plunged easily into the already abused body, his own previous ejaculation giving plenty of lubrication. Malfoy moaned at the renewed assault, and Harry noted the difference. It wasn’t a pained, or aggrieved moan. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated enjoyment. Whatever had been making Malfoy and him fight like animals seemed to have evaporated. Harry wasn’t sure he liked the almost normal passion between them, but he decided not to think about it. He didn’t want to think about anything. So he pressed his forehead to Malfoy’s and picked up the pace, his cock oversensitive from one orgasm, but still at full mast, still desperate to release again.  
He looked down into Malfoy’s eyes, and saw them watching him. It was odd, seeing that familiar face without any antagonism on it, not a trace of hatred or animosity. Just pure rapture. Malfoy lifted his head, finding Harry’s lips, and kissing him. More of those hot, slow kisses that Harry was becoming addicted to. He was sure, when Malfoy became a wildcat again, he’d miss these kisses. He’d miss the way Draco’s long slender legs were wrapping around him. He’d miss the gently grasping hands that felt as if they were shaking against him. Their rough sex had been hot, frenzied, and brain-melting. This was warm, untroubled, and felt as if it were thawing something inside of him. He liked this. He wanted more of THIS.  
He came swiftly, and Malfoy actually whimpered, hands grasping at him, threatening to return to violence if Harry left him, filled with need and shame. Harry kissed him, and let his mouth keep kissing him, even as he slowly pulled his head down to Malfoy’s neck, kissing, licking, tasting the salty flavor of his sweat. He swept quick, gentle kisses down Malfoy’s chest, trying not to be distracted by the uncomfortable way Malfoy was starting to wriggle about. He had to know where Harry was headed with this. Harry let himself slide out of the blond’s slick passage as he kissed his way down, and when he took the pulsing hard cock in his hand, Malfoy’s hips tilted up, welcoming the touch. Harry watched a moment as he pulled at the shaft, observing the way Malfoy’s eyes rolled back, and his wriggling stopped, and he seemed to relax into the bed. Harry smiled at the thought that all he’d needed was reassurance that he wasn’t going to be left aching, and he was suddenly resembling a semi-liquid state again. His body was limp, except for the twitches, and shivers of pleasure, and his mouth hung open with the soft sounds of his voice, giving life to his satisfaction. Harry glanced down, and considered. He’d never even thought of doing it, himself, but with Malfoy’s cock staring him in the face, he was overcome with curiosity. It really didn’t seem THAT awful…  
He slowly leaned forward, and let his lips brush across the swollen head of the cock in his hand. Malfoy jerked, and seemed to freeze, and Harry knew his eyes were open, watching. He glanced up, meeting a liquid silver gaze, and gently kissed the tip once more, testing Malfoy’s response. He was unpredictable at best, and Harry wanted to be prepared if he decided this was too far. He really didn’t want to catch a knee to the face.  
Malfoy watched, silent, breath halted as Harry tested the sensation of velvet skin on his lips. He drug his mouth back and forth, up and down the length, noting the various small experiences. There was the scent: musky, and hot, and filled with that same unnameable thing that he’d smelled in Malfoy’s hair. There was the velvet over steel feel of it, softer against his lips, warmer. There was the harsh breath that Malfoy drew in, his eyes locked on Harry as he teased. When Harry finally dared to open his mouth, and sweep his tongue across the heated flesh, Malfoy’s head lolled back again, and he groaned. Harry grinned, and got to work, encouraged by the pleasant response, he wrapped his lips completely around the shaft, and let his tongue freely explore.  
“Fuck, that’s good…” Malfoy muttered, surprising Harry. Usually, even if he was clearly enjoying himself, he refused to admit it aloud. Refused to even acknowledge that he was close to coming from the pleasure. His fingers slid back into Harry’s hair, encouraging more, and Harry obliged. He wasn’t sure why he was bothering, why he was so eager to keep Malfoy in this calm, pliable state. He’d come, twice. By the rules of their previous encounters, he should really be leaving. But he stayed. He pleasured Malfoy with his mouth, and when Malfoy’s sounds of ecstasy shifted, and Harry knew he was going to explode, he kept going. He’d used Malfoy, he’d held him down, and taken him several times. He knew he could again. This was no submission from Harry, this was simply another way of taking from him, showing him he wasn’t afraid to do whatever necessary to win. He wasn’t even sure WHAT he was winning. Just that as the salty flavor hit his tongue, and Malfoy’s grip tightened in his hair, and the moaning voice was shattered with gasping breaths, he was victorious.  
He swallowed as it came, washing the strange, tingling flavor down his throat. When it finally stopped, and Malfoy’s grip loosened, he pulled his lips free, licked them, and collapsed next to Malfoy’s spent form. He turned his head, looking across at Malfoy, and saw his eyes closed. His breathing was too ragged for sleep, so Harry watched him, waiting for him to open his eyes, and storm from the room. But instead, the harsh breathing slowly evened out, and Malfoy’s head tilted to the side, total relaxation taking him over as he fell unknowingly asleep. Harry felt powerful as he stared at the dozing blond. He’d made his enemy fall asleep next to him. He’d gotten Malfoy to give him all the power, and exhausted him to the point he’d actually fallen asleep without telling Harry to leave first. Harry sat up, and grabbed one of the silk sheets, pulling it carefully over the sleeping body, not wanting his sweaty skin to give him a chill. He ended up with the cool smooth fabric over himself as well, and decided to lie his head back, and rest a moment, before he fled. But that was a dangerous game to play. His eyes drifted closed, and in the crisp sheets, covered in cooling sweat, he rolled over, his hand reaching out, and found warmth. He was nearly asleep, and knew it was Malfoy’s chest his hand rested on, but couldn’t seem to move it. His hand felt so, so heavy. So did his eyelids. He’d just let the drowsiness take him for a few minutes, and then he’d get up, and go…_

XXX

“Are you alright?” Malfoy’s voice was full of concern, and Harry shook the cobwebs from his mind. Having Draco around again was not doing his mind any good. It kept wandering, and as he looked at his ex-lover, holding the angelic baby, his mind wandered again. Stupidly, he let himself imagine it was HIS baby. Stupidly, he imagined grabbing the long blond hair that Malfoy had let grow, and pulling him in for one of those slow, deep kisses. And even more stupidly, he imagined days on end where that was the norm, kissing his fiesty blond, and sometimes getting bitten. Carrying a blond baby around, and teaching him to ride a broom. Telling him that the peacocks his great-grandfather had let infest the property were truly a dumb idea, that the pink roses on that gazebo were full of magic, if he just wished hard enough of one, his wish would come true.  
“Harry?” When Harry opened his eyes to banish the imagery, Draco was closer than he had been, his face filled with worry, his baby held in one arm as his other reached for Harry’s face. Harry jerked away, slapped in the face with the past six years. He’d made a commitment to Ginny. He wore a ring. He’d promised her fidelity.  
“I have to go.” Harry announced, turning to flee. It was too much. It was all too much. The worst part was that he knew, if he’d never married Ginny, if Malfoy had never moved to France, their hurricaine of an affair would have ended in flames, and Harry would not be here, wanting a child that wasn’t his, and a man that he’d pushed aside. The irony was another slap to the face. He’d married Ginny, hoping she could give him a family, give him kids, knowing Malfoy never could, and now, everything he’d wanted was in Malfoy Manor.


	5. Frenzy

XXX

_“Hiding from your friends, Potter?” The drawl wasn’t as mean as he might’ve expected, and he turned to glare at the offending blond. Of course he’d choose to show up, here, of all places, where there were thousands of eyes watching, keeping them on their best, or at least, not their worst, behavior.  
“No. Just taking a break from the endless banal questions. Reporters really are a different species, you know?” Harry said, eyes moving to skim the crowd. He’d been accosted by no less than six reporters already, all asking the same stupid questions. What was he going to do, now that he was a full-fledged Auror? Was he going to get married? Would he live in London?   
“Truly, they are.” Malfoy agreed, leaning against the wall, seeming comfortable in the space next to Harry. Harry tried to keep his mouth shut. He really did.  
“Where’ve you been?” He couldn’t help it. He just HAD to know. Malfoy had been gone the morning he’d woken up in his bed, and he’d been nowhere to be found for three weeks. Harry had visited Malfoy Manor several times, each time feeling both idiodic, and hopeful. Each time the house elves informed him that Draco hadn’t returned yet, he left feeling angrier, and more frustrated.  
“France, helping my parents settle in. They want me to join them, but… I’ve got plenty of work to do here, especially if the Malfoy name is going to regain its former respect and glory.” Malfoy answered with a casual shrug. Harry glared at him.  
“You’ve been in France for three weeks?” He asked, searching Malfoy’s face.  
“Yes. I just said that, Potter.” Malfoy offered him a look that questioned his intelligence, and Harry felt his temper flare.  
“You’ve been in France, for three weeks, and you said nothing? And now you show up here, dressed like THAT, without a single, solitary word that you’d left the country, or were coming back?” Harry fumed, and realized his voice had risen, so he lowered it, and forced his angry glare away from Malfoy, lest the reporters decide to write about THAT. “Do you have any idea how it feels to wake up, completely alone, in a house that’s not yours, and for the person you’d fallen asleep next to to just disappear off the face of the planet?”  
“Did you miss me, Potter?” Malfoy teased, his face stretching into a mocking grin. Harry snarled, and just barely stopped himself from throttling the sneering blond.   
“Hardly!” He snapped, and pushed away from the wall, away from Malfoy. If he wanted to be away from Harry so badly, he could oblige him. It didn’t matter that the very sight of Malfoy, hair combed back, wearing crisp, spotless dress robes, made him want to absolutely ruin that image. It didn’t matter than recalling the afternoon before Malfoy had disappeared had sent his balls aching, and his cock at a half-mast. He tore through the crowd, searching for a familiar face to hide himself next to, hoping Malfoy wouldn’t bother him if he was with friends. So far, he’d only been a threat when alone.  
He was satisfied when Malfoy seemed to disappear from the party altogether, and he thought nasty things to himself about him flying back to France, or dropping into a volcano for all he cared. But his eyes kept scanning the room, as if at any moment Draco would reappear, just in the corner of his eye, and give him that smirk that invited mayhem. But he was nowhere to be seen, not in the corners, not in the dancers, and not at the bar. The fancy party seemed to be quickly losing its appeal, spoiled by the brief, but lingering appearance of the blond. Harry excused himself, feeling the conversation starting to grate on his nerves. It had been the same for weeks. He’d be simply enjoying a conversation, or spending time with the Weasleys, and suddenly, he’d remember what he’d done. He’d remember that Malfoy had disappeared. He’d remember that it’d been so many days since he’d felt relaxed. It seemed with every day Malfoy had been away, and every day Harry had been unable to shout at him for disappearing, unable to smell the comforting fragrance that hid in his hair, he’d grown more and more testy, and more likely to snap at his friends.  
He slipped into the men’s room, and turned the lock behind him, leaning back against the door, he let his eyes fall closed, and heaved a sigh of frustration. He was wound far too tightly, and Malfoy had been a prick in his patience he hadn’t been accounting for.   
“You’re incredibly predictable, you know.”  
Harry’s eyes snapped open, and he met a smirking, perfectly arranged face. Malfoy gave nothing but mocking, but Harry’s eyes darted to the row of stalls, terrified someone would be in one, eavesdropping on what he might shout at Malfoy. The last thing he needed was this little fiasco with Malfoy to reach the tabloids.  
“We’re alone.” Malfoy caught his glance, and answered the unspoken question. Harry glared at him. He hated that he knew exactly what he’d been thinking. He hated that he was here, waiting, aware that Harry would need to escape the dull Ministry party. Malfoy stood, one hip cocked to the side, his infuriating half-smile plastered on his face, his sharp grey eyes reading Harry as if he were an open book.   
‘Are you TRYING to get me to curse you?” Harry threatened, though he couldn’t bring himself to unlock the door and leave. He hated everything about Malfoy just then, but knew, if Malfoy pushed, Harry would find other ways to punish him. He would take every last ounce of the three weeks of building frustration, and shove them down Malfoy’s throat.  
“Maybe.” The smirk faded, and left Malfoy looking uncharacteristically somber. “Maybe I came to apologize.”   
“What?” Harry felt his building rage fizzle into confusion. He looked around the empty loo once more, and then back to Malfoy. He was almost worried he was imperiused. But he couldn’t imagine why someone would curse Malfoy to do THIS.  
“I said, I came to apologize. Are you deaf?” Malfoy snapped, his face morphing into irritation. Harry looked at him suspiciously. His anger was more normal, but the apology was still concerning.  
“Go on.” He prompted, crossing his arms. Malfoy swallowed uncomfortably, his cheeks turning pink, and he looked away, staring at the sink as he spoke.  
“I’m sorry I left without saying anything. I didn’t think you’d really care.” Malfoy grumbled.   
“I don’t care.” Harry confirmed, feeling guilty the moment the words left his lips. Malfoy turned his fiery gaze to him with a look of absolute hatred.   
“Fine. Then I’ll go.” He declared, and took a step forward, “You’re blocking the door. Move.”   
Harry stayed put. He stared at Malfoy. He didn’t care. He didn’t FANCY Malfoy. But they had shared something he’d never had before. Not even with Ginny. He’d hated that Malfoy had taken that outlet, that connection, away with him. He found his breath coming harsher as Malfoy glared, waiting for him to move. He couldn’t move. Not with Malfoy looking at him like that. It was a look that promised violence. And more than anything, he wanted that violence just then.  
“Move, Potter!” Malfoy urged, reaching out to shove him aside. But as his hands landed on Harry, whatever ice had been freezing Harry in place broke apart, and he moved. He grabbed Malfoy, and pushed him back into the wall, pressing his lips to the other’s with a sick desperation. Malfoy was pushing at him, clearly unhappy with the ambush, but he was kissing back, his lips matching Harry’s and after a few moments of shoving at his chest, his arms relaxed, and his hands formed fists, grabbing the front of Harry’s robes. Harry immediately sank a hand into Malfoy’s hair, mussing up his perfectly combed style. Malfoy broke the kiss as his head fell back, his eyes closed in a scowl, his lips parted as he breathed sharply in and out.  
“Fuck, Potter. Can’t you just ONCE, have a normal conversation?” He huffed, opening his eyes to match Harry’s angry glare.  
“You’re the one acting abnormal!” He declared, shoving Malfoy so they separated, and the blond hit the wall again. Malfoy snarled at the bump, and quickly shoved back, pushing Harry even farther away.  
“I’m TRYING to be normal, Potter! I TRIED to apologize, like a NORMAL fucking person! Why do you have to turn EVERYTHING into a fight?” Malfoy raged, glaring, leaning forward slightly, as if he was out of breath. Harry stared at him. He wasn’t sure how to answer. He felt like an alien just then, staring at Malfoy, not knowing what to say, or do. He couldn’t go back to the party like this. He’d feel completely out of place. He didn’t want to go home, though, and wallow in loneliness. But he DEFINITELY couldn’t stay here, in the loo, with Malfoy. He was liable to do more things he’d regret. So he stood in silence, waiting for Malfoy to offer him another question, or another fistfight. Anything.  
“What do you want, Potter?” His voice had turned distraught, and he stared at Harry a moment, looking truly lost. “Money? Revenge? Just name it. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you, and this can end.”   
Harry stared at him, his stomach dropping through his feet at the words. He didn’t want this to end. Not yet. He gave the question a moment of serious thought, trying to form an answer.  
“Someday, I want a family.” Harry answered. “I want kids, and happiness, and to be Head Auror. I don’t want your money. I’m not interested in revenge, or blackmail. I just… I don’t know, Malfoy. This… Whatever this is… It’s…” He shook his head, unable to say any of the words that came to mind. All of them sounded absurd. Malfoy stared at him, silent, waiting for him to finish. Harry stared back, and finally, “It’s new.”   
Malfoy kept staring.  
“It’s different.” Harry shrugged. “Nice, in an intense, weird way. Ya’know?” Harry felt like an absolute dolt saying it, but Malfoy slowly nodded.  
“Yeah.” He agreed, and Harry nearly sighed with relief. At least he wasn’t alone in enjoying their horrible new ‘friendship’. “I mean, you’re still an idiot…”   
Harry was surprised by his own short bark of laughter. Malfoy grinned back, clearly more comfortable with insults than the uncomfortable squish the conversation had turned toward. Their eyes locked, and at the same moment, they lurched forward, grabbing one another, gasping into the sudden kiss, and Harry grinned into Malfoy’s mouth as he once more trapped him against the cold wall. Malfoy bit his lip sharply, and Harry didn’t care.   
When the loud banging came on the door, they jumped apart, startled, as if they’d been caught by a teacher. They both looked to the door, and then back at each other as the knock came again, followed by a peeved, muffled voice calling for entrance.  
“Well, fuck this. I’m going home.” Malfoy announced, slipping around Harry, he grabbed the door. Before he twisted it unlocked, he turned and Harry saw a look on his face. It was a new look, one he hadn’t seen before, but he knew exactly what it meant. He nodded.  
“Okay.” Harry agreed aloud. As soon as he responded, Malfoy slid the lock open, and dodged the incoming man, easily disappearing into the crowd beyond.   
“Potter! You look a mess! Was Malfoy giving you trouble?” The man was familiar. One of the older Aurors.  
“Just a small argument. Nothing I can’t handle.” Harry smiled at his comrade, and exited the restroom, eagerly ducking his way through the crowd. His heart was pounding, and his head was spinning. If he wasn’t completely crazy, Malfoy had just invited him over, in his own weird way. This was entirely new. Having been semi-invited, Harry felt a giddiness filling him. He refused to think of it as a date. It was simply an invitation to continue the weird, new, WHATEVER, they’d been exploring.  
He found one of the apparation points in the Atrium, and was gone in an instant, not bothering to say goodbye to any of his friends, not even looking for them before he left. He landed on the steps of Malfoy Manor, and knocked. The same house elf answered the door as when he’d come looking for Malfoy the past three weeks.  
“Master Potter! Come in. Master Malfoy is back. Right this way.” She led him through the house, and Harry tried not to stare into the dining room as they passed, clearly remembering the way Malfoy had refused to identify them, the screams he’d heard from Hermione as Bellatrix had carved up her arm.  
“What took you so long, Potter?” Malfoy drawled as Harry entered the room he recognized as Draco’s.   
“Got lost at the second library.” Harry retorted, poking fun at the massive house. Malfoy smirked.  
“If you want, I’ll get you a map.” He teased, his grey eyes sparkling with humor. Harry found he rather liked this playful Malfoy. He was almost charming. Harry swallowed nervously. This was suddenly more complicated. He preferred just manhandling Malfoy until he’d given up. With this, he wasn’t sure how he should proceed. Malfoy had CLEARLY invited him, but… Was he supposed to have a glass of wine, and start kissing him? Was he expected to keep up the conversation for some unknowable period of time, before he could grab the blond, and throw him on the bed?   
He rubbed his palms on his robes, removing the nervous sweat. He looked around the room, more for something to do than out of curiosity.   
“Nervous, Potter?” Malfoy was smirking, looking for all the world as if he wasn’t bothered by the situation. Harry glared at him, and made a split-second decision. This wasn’t a date. He didn’t have to worry about the pressure of expectations. He was here for one reason, and they both knew it. He stalked toward Malfoy, who held his gaze, unintimidated as Harry approached. Harry grabbed Malfoy by the hair, and applied just enough force to make Malfoy follow his head, which he shoved towards the ground.  
“Get on your knees.” Harry ordered, feeling the smooth confidence of being in control. If Malfoy obeyed, good. If not, he’d have fun making him.  
“Ahh!” Malfoy gasped in pain as Harry forced him down, but as he sank to his knees, Harry saw the wince turn into a brief smile of enjoyment, before Malfoy masked it with a nasty look. He glared up at Harry, and Harry grinned down. Even if Malfoy tried to hide it, he’d seen it. He LIKED this. That would make this worlds easier.   
Harry brought his free hand forward, using his other to keep Malfoy’s head bent back. He pressed his fingers to Malfoy’s lips, and traced them, slowly, deliberately, before pushing his thumb between them. He could feel Malfoy’s tongue. Warm and wet and curling slightly against the digit, despite the glower on Malfoy’s face. He could feel the sharp teeth that scraped against his skin, and he pushed his thumb in and out a few times, biting his own lip as he watched his hand imitate what he had planned.   
“Stay.” He ordered, releasing Malfoy, to unbutton his robes. He undid them quickly, and flung them off, he disrobed, shoes and all, until he stood before Malfoy wearing just his shorts. He was honestly surprised that Draco had stayed on his knees, watching silently, though he HAD to know what was coming.  
“You wanted to know what I want? Is this clear enough for you?” Harry taunted, standing so his crotch was right in Malfoy’s face. Draco stared at it, seeming mesmerized by the task before him, his nerves suddenly showing as Harry stood, nearly naked before him. Harry wrapped one hand around the back of his head, and used his other to pull the front of his shorts down. His erection sprang eagerly forth, and Harry pulled the soft pink mouth right to it. Malfoy’s hands pushed against his thighs, and he turned his head, refusing to cooperate.   
“I want you to suck me off, Draco.” He stated, pressing his excruciatingly hard cock into Malfoy’s cheek, even as he tried to pull away from the contact. “I’ve already done you. It’s only fair you return the favor.” Harry cajoled, letting his head slip far enough back for Malfoy to look up at him, a look of apprehension and ire written across his features. Harry stared down at him, and cocked an eyebrow, deciding to himself that he’d give Malfoy five seconds to comply.   
He’d gotten to four in his head when Malfoy squeezed his eyes closed and let Harry pull him forward. Harry felt the soft press of lips on the head of his cock, and groaned.  
“Open your mouth.” He encouraged, watching in fascination as Malfoy did as asked, but only just. Harry forced the mouth open wider as he pushed himself in.  
“Ohhh, fuck.” He moaned, thrusting his hips gently, savoring every inch of the wet hot mouth that encircled his shaft. Malfoy’s lips had naturally formed an ‘o’, creating gentle suction as Harry pulled out, and made Harry’s eyes roll back in his head. He stared down at the sight of his skin slick with saliva, and disappearing over and over again into Malfoy’s mouth. He could feel the soft tongue, moving as he swallowed, and hesitantly explored the underside of his cock. Malfoy kept his eyes tightly closed, as if refusing to look at what he was doing would make it somehow less embarrassing. But Harry knew that if he looked up, he would see no judgement, or mocking in Harry’s face, only bliss.  
Harry pushed himself deeper, hitting the back of Malfoy’s throat, and the hands on his thighs squeezed tighter, warning him that he was toeing the line. Harry hated that line. He pulled Malfoy swiftly into his thrust, getting as far down that sweet throat as he could, and holding it for a heartbeat, before he let go, allowing Malfoy to gag, and gasp, and choke.  
“Fuck you, Potter!” Malfoy tried to yell, but it was broken by his breathlessness. Harry smirked down, and grabbed the pale face again, forcing the mouth open, he shoved his cock back inside, and deep into Malfoy’s throat. He held it, thrusting gently, taking pleasure in the way Malfoy gagged on him, and struggled to be let loose, but still, in essence, cooperating. He wasn’t daring to bite down, or really struggle to escape. He could have stood, he could have used his fists to be free, but instead, he merely pushed, and wiggled, and when Harry let him up for air, he bent over, coughing, eyes watering, saliva dripping down his mouth.   
Harry loved the sight of him so visibly corrupted. When he was sure Malfoy had caught enough of his breath, he pulled him in again, fucking his throat eagerly.  
“Fuck that’s good. I could cum right down your throat like this.” Harry announced, watching Malfoy’s eyes go wide in fear. He wasn’t sure if it was fear of being so far degraded, or fear of choking to death, but Harry took pity. He pulled his cock free before he could reach that point, and grabbed Malfoy, one hand at the back of his head, the other gripping the front of his neck, choking him slightly as he pulled him roughly to his feet. One hard shove and Malfoy stumbled back, the back of his knees hit the edge of his bed, and he fell, sprawling out with a soft whump onto the thick blanket. Harry followed close behind, climbing on top of him, he attacked Malfoy’s mouth, kissing that pleasing, magnificent mouth before Malfoy could even catch his breath. He began yanking impatiently at Malfoy’s crisp, clean robes, tearing buttons open, and pushing fabric free of Malfoy’s body. He looked down, admiring the half-clothed, thoroughly disheveled look of the blond. THIS was what he wanted, right now. He wanted to make Malfoy look so tumbled that he wouldn’t be able to escape into a crowd. He wanted to watch him become more and more corrupted by Harry’s need for him, until he couldn’t see the look on his face from staring too hard at the beautiful form.   
Soft white skin showed through dark robes, and Harry bent to it, kissing and licking his way from Malfoy’s navel back to his mouth. He shoved his tongue into the wet cavern as he pulled the rest of Malfoy’s robes off, tossing them to the floor. When there was finally not a single stitch of clothing between them, he grabbed Malfoy’s hips, and easily rolled him over, pushing him onto his front. Malfoy grunted in protest, his hands moving to the bed, elbows up as if he was going to push himself upright, but Harry grabbed his shoulder, keeping him pressed down. Harry spat onto his hand, and smeared the spit between Malfoy’s cheeks. He rubbed what was left onto his dick, and pressed forward. He teased the entrance with his tip, pressing forward just enough to let Malfoy know he was there, watching Malfoy’s reaction. His eyes were closed tight again, his hands gripping the bed, and Harry leaned down, pressing his lips to Malfoy’s ear.  
“Do you want it to hurt?” He asked crudely, willing to make things easy, in light of Malfoy’s cooperation.  
“Fuck you!” Malfoy snapped, hearing only mocking, and Harry growled, biting at Malfoy’s neck, he pushed just a little farther in.  
“If you don’t say no, I’m going to start fucking you. If you want me to try to make it easier, you have to tell me, now, Malfoy.” Harry warned, trying to make it clear that he wasn’t just teasing, or talking dirty.   
“Fuck…” Malfoy groaned, looking absolutely torn. Harry took that as his answer, and pushed forward, meeting resistance as Malfoy tensed. He forced himself forward, past the tight muscles, until his entire length was inside the blond. When he was fully sheathed, he did something he’d never done before. He paused.  
He sat up a bit, looking down at their joined bodies, examining the way Malfoy’s pale cheeks cradled him. He grabbed one, and spread it open, watching as he slowly thrust in and out. It was mesmerizing, watching himself fuck Malfoy, and he drank in the sight of it. The tight hole barely accommodating him. The stretch of pale, muscular back. The messy platinum hair wildly framing the flushed, cringing face. Long, slender fingers clutched at the blanket. He didn’t feel too bad for causing Malfoy pain. He knew he could take it, and suspected that he even got off on it. He knew that when it hurt, he could pretend he wasn’t participating. That it somehow absolved him of their sin.   
Harry let another dribble of saliva join the friction, easing his movements. Malfoy groaned quietly, unsettled by the sudden cool drips, but unwilling to voice any real words. Harry smirked, and leaned back over him, pressing his body against Malfoy’s, he wrapped one arm around his shoulders, in an imitation of a hug, keeping Malfoy just where he wanted him as he pounded away.  
“I always forget how fucking tight you are.” Harry growled, purely to make Malfoy flush darker. It worked, and he earned an eye cracked open, glaring up at him.  
“I- ah- always forget -ahn- how much of a -haa- prick you are.” Malfoy retorted, though his angry response was ruined by his gasping. Harry wasn’t entirely convinced they were gasps of pain, either. It was rather strange, actually speaking to Malfoy as he fucked him. Another new experience, and one he was finding he rather enjoyed. He pressed his lips to Malfoy’s shoulder, kissing a small trail to his spine. He felt Malfoy shiver against the sensation, saw the gooseflesh that popped up, and he grinned. Malfoy was definitely enjoying this.  
“Call me a prick again, Malfoy.” Harry dared, squeezing one of the slender shoulders in warning. Malfoy took the words to heart, not at all afraid of Harry’s ambiguous threat.  
“You’re a fucking arsehole, Potter! I don’t know HOW none of your friends sees it, but- AH!- any worse, and -nnn- and you’d- ahhhfuck!” Malfoy never finished his sentence, his words lost to the punishment. Harry had yanked his head back by his hair, forcing his back to arch, as he slammed heedlessly into the narrow hips. When his words finally seemed to be out of reach, Harry shoved his face into the bed, and raked his nails down Malfoy’s spine, leaving dark red welts behind. Malfoy groaned, and Harry was glad to see him practically drooling into the mattress at the onslaught. It was a truly beautiful sight, the usually pristine and put-together Malfoy in a drooling heap of moaning, tousled pleasure. The view of Malfoy beneath him was enough to make his balls tighten, and he slowed, not wanting to finish too early. He wanted to draw out this perfect, pleasured moment as long as possible.  
Malfoy, however seemed to have other ideas.  
"Harder…" the word was nearly lost in the moan it came on, but Harry had heard it. He groaned, unable to deny the sound of Malfoy begging. He wrapped his fingers around Malfoy s throat and squeezed, letting his hips slam into the blond with harsh, fast thrusts. He grabbed Malfoy's hip, and forced him to lift his ass into Harry's rough fucking. Malfoy's voice was only slightly choked by Harry's hand, and the whole of it all, the sound of him moaning, the feel of him bucking back into Harry, the sight of him desperate and out of control, hit Harry like rapid fire, one after the other. He wrapped his arm around Malfoy's hip, and began stroking the hard cock he found, pleasuring Malfoy, needing him to finish, fast, as he came. He didn't dare stop, even as he emptied his seed into Malfoy, until he felt the soft shuddering of the blond, and his hand was slicked in cum.  
They stilled, and Malfoy collapsed to the bed as Harry released him. Harry fell on top of him, trying to catch his breath.   
"Get off…" Malfoy's breathless demand sent a sharp stab of disappointment through Harry's gut. He'd hadn't even realized it until he rolled off of Malfoy, but he'd hoped they were past that taciturn, embarrassed escape.   
"You're heavy as shit, Potter. Been gaining weight?" Malfoy taunted, turning a rather ridiculous grin to the brunet. Harry felt his stomach flip. Was he not expected to leave then?   
"It's muscle, you git." He replied, letting himself collapse into the pillows. Malfoy chuckled, his eyes falling closed, the stupid smile still plastered on his face. Harry smiled softly at the sight. This was a nice change from the usual humiliation that overtook him afterward. Malfoy still looked a little flushed with embarrassment, but he wasn't leaving. Harry felt a bizarre urge to touch him, to brush the sweat-dampened hair from his face, and trace the curve of his shoulder. He clenched his fingers into fist, instead, and traced the figure with his eyes. His pale skin was flushed from sex, he looked soft, relaxed, and… happy. Harry felt a similar warm gooeyness in his body. It made him feel satisfied, and accomplished.   
"Stop staring at me. It's weird." Malfoy huffed, though his smile didn't fade. Harry grinned down at him.   
"Sorry. You just look… thoroughly fucked. Makes a man feel proud, seeing he's done that." Harry commented. Malfoy twisted his hand into a rude gesture, and Harry chuckled. He reached out, and brushed the hair from Malfoy's brow, taking a chance on the calm mood that seemed to permeate the whole bed.  
"Mm." Was all the reply he got. He wasn't sure if it was an irritated 'mm', or a pleased 'mm'. He pulled his hand back, and decided to combat the chill that was creeping over his sweaty skin by fighting his way under the blankets.   
"Mmm." Malfoy groaned in response to the movement. Harry grinned, and yanked at the covers, jostling the pale body worse, and earning a growl, and glare.  
Harry tossed the freed silks and duvet over the sleepy, irate blond. As they settled over his body, Malfoy's eyes closed, and his glare softened into a scowl.   
"Mh." He huffed. Harry had no idea how to translate that, either.   
"You're welcome." He replied sarcastically, making up his own meaning for the noise. He let his hand fall heavily onto Malfoy's covered back, and closed his eyes. It was eerily close to a cuddle, but it felt like just the thing after such exertion. Malfoy didn't grunt at the touch, and didn't move to shake him off, so Harry let a small, victorious smile grace his lips as he felt the tidal wave of drowsiness crash into him, and pull him under._

XXX

Harry woke from the dream of that memory in a foul mood. He knew going to Malfoy Manor had been a terrible idea. He went through the motions of getting ready for work, and spent the morning nursing a stress-induced headache. He wished, for a split second, that some dark wizard would appear, to take his mind off the dark, tumbling thoughts that seemed to consume him.  
Lunch brought a much needed reprieve in the form of a note from Hermione, asking him to watch Rose for a few hours after work. She mentioned she'd already spoken with Ginny that morning, so she was planning on staying at practice later. He wrote back promptly, agreeing to babysit, not even bothering to ask why they needed a babysitter. He was eager for the distraction from his own mind.


	6. One Can Keep a Secret

He arrived at Ron and Hermione’s home not even five minutes after the clock had told him to head home, and knocked as he entered.   
"I'm here!" He called, and Hermione appeared in the kitchen doorway, silently shushing him. He tiptoed towards her, feeling as if something wasn't quite right. She was wearing cleaning clothes, not going out clothes, and in the kitchen?  
Harry entered, looking at her with suspicion.  
"What's up?" He asked, feeling the tingle on the back of his neck as he took in the tea that waited on the kitchen table, the sleeping baby in her bassinet, and the scent of lemony cleaning potion. Hermione clearly didn't need a babysitter.  
"Tea?" Hermione asked politely, sitting at the table, keeping her voice low as she rocked the sleeping baby.  
"Sure." Harry muttered, sure she'd get to the point eventually. He sipped his tea, keeping an eye on the clock as they exchanged pleasantries. She made it three whole minutes before she finally came to something of substance.  
"Ginny mentioned that you went by Malfoy's this weekend." She said, a bit TOO casually.  
"Yeah." Harry answered, rolling his eyes. Just what he needed to talk about. NOT.  
Hermione eyed him. A suspicious look on her face that made Harry instantly wary. It was NEVER good when she got that look.  
"Well… Did anything… HAPPEN?" She asked, staring at him intently. For a brief moment, Harry's heart thumped madly, and he was CERTAIN she knew.  
"I met his son." Harry replied with every bit of nonchalance he could muster. Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry gulped nervously. She couldn't know.  
"Aaaaand?" Hermione probed vaguely. Harry shook his head.  
"'And' nothing, Hermione. What are you on about?" He was afraid he already knew the answer though. Hermione sighed a long-suffering sigh.  
"Are you really going to make me ask, Harry? Fine. Did you cheat on Ginny?" Hermione said it with an unwavering voice, her eyes searching his face, and Harry felt a chill go up his spine as he tried not to squirm. There was no way she could know.  
"No, Hermione! I did not cheat on Ginny. Why would you even ASK that?" Harry refuted defensively. Thinking about cheating was another thing.  
"Well, what was I SUPPOSED to think, Harry? Given your previous relationship, and the way you couldn't seem to take your eyes off of him at your party, when Ginny mentioned you'd gone over there, I just… I was worried. I KNOW you'd never want to hurt Ginny, but… Anyone could be driven to extremes, especially… with how things have been recently." Hermione spoke quickly, getting her words out before Harry could explode with anger. But as he opened his mouth, glaring at her, eyes flickering to the tiny redhead sleeping nearby, his anger fizzled out, replaced with depressed acceptance. He never should have trusted that Hermione wasn't watching, or noticing the state of his marriage, or lack of enthusiasm.  
"Malfoy and I were never in a relationship." He finally argued. He couldn't bring himself to mention the rest of it.  
"Well, whatever you were or weren't calling it, I know you were… close… for a while. I can't say I understood it, but… you did seem happy with him. I was honestly surprised when you and Ginny announced your engagement, but you seemed so SURE when I asked you about it, that it was what you wanted… so I didn't press further, but now… after seeing the way you were at the pub… I think maybe I should have…" Harry couldn't stand the way she looked so sad. Her life was perfect, she'd gotten everything she wanted. It wasn't her responsibility to make sure his life was just as perfect. It was an impossible task, anyway, and would only leave her as unhappy as him. Harry tried to push the melancholy thoughts away, and focused on one thing that was puzzling him.  
"How long have you known?" He was surprised that the words weren't choked by the fear in his throat. It was as good as an admission. But even if he denied it, if she even suspected, Hermione would be impossible to fool.  
"About you and Malfoy?" She asked, and waited for his single brief nod before she answered. "Hmm… I think… I first noticed… that time Ron and I were over at yours, and he showed up. You hid it really well, but… there were signs. The way you kept looking at each other, for one. It wasn't exactly NICE, but it was different from how you used to do. Then there were the little comments that seemed like inside jokes that neither of you actually found funny." Hermione answered, thinking back. Harry easily recalled the night she meant. It had been the first of a few similar evenings, where Malfoy had joined him and his friends for a very strange gathering… though it had been entirely unplanned.

XXX  
 _  
An angry knocking at the door made Harry jump in surprise.  
"I'll be right back." He told Ron and Hermione, setting his drink down, and picking himself up off the floor. The pair of them were snuggled together on his couch, and he knew they'd be kissing the moment he left the room. He didn't really mind.  
He was still smiling to himself, warmed by his friends' love, when he opened the door.  
He barely even saw who it was before he was attacked, and he'd just managed to pull his wand in defense when he realized the attacker was far too handsy, and was KISSING him. He shoved Malfoy away, grabbed him by the shirt, and pulled him inside just far enough to slam the door behind him. Harry shoved him into the wall, and clamped a hand over his mouth as it opened, cutting off whatever he'd been about to say.  
"Shut up!" He hissed, more angrily than he might have recently. He and Malfoy had met, nearly every week, for the past three months, but NEVER had they met at his flat. "Ron and Hermione are in the other room." He explained, wanting to quell the anger he could see in the blond's narrowed eyes, and the fingers digging into his wrist. Malfoy shoved his hand away, uncovering his mouth, and glared.  
"Fine, I'll go." His voice was an angry hiss, and as he turned to open the door, Harry caught his arm.  
"Harry, who is it?" Ron's voice called from the other room. Malfoy glared at him and yanked his arm free. Harry grabbed his robes instead and caught the back of his head, pressing a quick, soft kiss to his mouth, trying to convey that he wasn't trying to get rid of him.  
"You could stay… until after they've gone." Harry offered, letting go of the blond, letting him make his decision. Malfoy stared at him a moment, searching for some sign of a trap. After what seemed like a stretch of eternity, his face broke into a sneer.  
"What, you expect me to hide in your bedroom like some concubine?" He whispered derisively. Harry grinned, recognizing the sarcasm as a way of admitting he was considering it, and wanted to hear Harry's plan.  
"Or you could join us in the living room. We're just playing stupid party games. None of us are very good at them." Harry admitted, gesturing for Malfoy to follow him.   
"Wait… Wait!" Malfoy hissed, sounding slightly panicked as Harry left him by the door, and rejoined his friends. Harry heard him follow, and had to hide his grin as he entered the living room.  
"Did you invite someone else?" Hermione asked, watching as Harry stood for a moment, looking at Malfoy glaring as he was forced to catch up the short distance.  
"Yeah, I forgot. Um… I invited Malfoy." Harry knew it wasn't the smoothest introduction, but he tried to keep the guilty blush from his face as he plopped into his previous place opposite his friends, on the floor, with his back to the fire.  
"What! Why?" Ron was instantly up in arms, dislodging Hermione as he sat upright, and glared at the man that now stood in the doorway to the hall.  
"To ruin your evening, Weasley." Malfoy shot back. Harry sighed, and gave Draco a look of warning.   
"On the request of the Minister, I'm TRYING to 'build bridges, and form new alliances with old enemies.' You know. You heard what Kingsley said at the ceremony last year. Apparently he wants me to take it more literally. Show the ogling public it's not impossible to at least TRY to get along?"  
"Oh, that’s actually very big of you, Harry." Hermione praised, while Ron grumbled, and continued to glare. "Though, I must say: Malfoy, one single foul word from you, and I won't hesitate to hex your bollocks off, and bury you under a decade of restitution litigation."   
"Fine. Whatever." Malfoy muttered, and glared at Harry. Harry shrugged at him. He may enjoy their occasional tryst, but he wouldn't lift a finger to save him from Hermione's justice.  
He could stay, and behave, or he WAS welcome to leave. Though, as he eyed the room, and the seating arrangements, and slowly took a seat on the floor, nearer Harry than the other two, Harry couldn't help wanting him to stay. He really did enjoy the time they'd been spending together, and the strange almost-friendship that had been growing between their passionate conflicts. They had an understanding most days, and on rare days, they'd even talk afterwards.  
"Well, what games are you playing?" Malfoy changed the subject rather bluntly.   
Hermione summoned a fourth glass, and poured some of the firewhiskey and soda in, explaining the rules of her muggle drinking game. Harry noticed Malfoy's nose wrinkle as she explained, but he said nothing, and as they started back up, he joined in without comment.  
"So… Draco, how have you been getting along since the trials ended?" Hermione sounded forced and awkward, but Harry appreciated her effort at diplomacy.  
"Just fine, thank you." He didn't sound gracious, nor did he add details. Harry glanced at his friends, and then at his secret lover.  
"Last time we spoke, you mentioned you were taking part in the repairs at Hogwarts. How's that coming?" Harry prompted, drawing a card, and taking a drink.  
"Slowly. I expect the students will start arriving before the repairs have been completed, so for now, we're focusing on the necessary corridors, the Great Hall, and the common rooms." He said, repeating exactly what he'd told Harry the previous time, with a look that accused him of not paying attention. Harry shrugged. The clothes Malfoy was wearing this time did make it easier to concentrate on the words, and not just the way his mouth moved.   
"Well, that's lovely." Hermione delighted, drawing her own card. They were reaching the bottom of the deck, and Harry was, for once, eager for the game to be over, so he could declare an early bedtime, and usher his friends out. The way Malfoy kept looking at him was so baleful, so full of irritation, he knew that he'd be volatile and full of temper. Whatever had driven him to show up here, at Harry's was only being exacerbated by having to speak to Harry's friends. Harry couldn't wait to get him alone.  
"Sure." Malfoy replied to Hermione’s comment, chugging his drink.   
"You didn't even draw a card!" Ron accused, as Malfoy set his glass on the table, silently demanding a refill. Hermione pursed her lips, but mixed him another drink.  
"At this rate, drinking between draws is the only possible way I can guarantee I’ll actually get tipsy. Why are you diluting the alcohol, anyway, Granger?" Malfoy huffed with exasperation, waving a hand at the bottle of soda. Hermione gave him a look as a teacher might look at a rowdy student.  
"So it tastes better. Not everyone enjoys plain alcohol." She chided. Malfoy bristled, ready to say something Harry was sure would be offensive. He threw a warning glare at the blond, who glanced over at the movement, and snapped his mouth shut, glaring back at Harry, a look of rancor on his face. Harry lifted his brows, DARING Malfoy to say something. If he was already in a bad mood, then Harry would gladly take an excuse to punish him after his friends left. Even with the newfound closeness, the violence still had a calming effect on them both, as if their violence was a way of repenting, a penance for whatever they felt they'd done wrong. Malfoy seemed angry, but Harry suspected it was masking guilt. Though what he had to be guilty for, Harry wasn't certain.  
"Well, if you're going to be diluting it, perhaps you should play a game that requires more drinking, to balance it out?" Malfoy suggested. Hermione considered it.  
"All the games I know are much the same speed. Do you have another game in mind?" Hermione was a perfect saint, offering the verbal olive branch. Harry almost could have kissed her for her benevolence.   
"A wizard's one. Have you all got your wands?" When they all nodded, and pulled them out, he held his forward. "Put the tips together, so they all touch. Good, now, repeat after me." He led them in a short spell, and while Harry had no idea what they were saying, he really did trust Draco not to lead them into anything dark or dangerous.  
"Alright, everyone place your wand in a corner of the table, facing the middle. Now, one at a time, we will spin our wands in the middle, like so."  
"Like spin the bottle? I'm not kissing either of you two." Hermione blurted, her face a bit pink. Harry and Malfoy shared a smirk, and Malfoy chuckled.   
"No kissing involved, Granger. Too many blokes present for that to be a fun game." Malfoy's statement nearly made Harry choke, but he managed to pass it off as a cough, and waved his hand for Malfoy to proceed with the explanation.   
"Anyway, there are rules. The one person spinning their wand does nothing but spin. The other players all look at the wand, and focus on who you want to drink. The spinning wand will stop, pointing to the wand of the loser, who has to drink. The voters CAN choose to make the spinner drink, but all voters must vote on the spinner, or it defaults to the next majority. If all players vote differently, all of the voters’ wands light up and everyone finishes their drinks, except the spinner."   
"That sounds easy enough." Hermione shrugged, and picked up her wand, waving it to clear the cards from the table, so she could set it in the center. "Ready, boys?"   
They all affirmed, and Hermione spun. Harry stared at the wand, thinking hard of Malfoy. A drunk Malfoy was an even more fun one.   
The wand slowed to a stop, pointing at his, and Harry looked up, surprised, meeting one pair of eyes after the other. Traitors. All of them.  
"Drink." Malfoy smirked, nodding to Harry's cup. Harry glared, but took a gulp. Ron spun next, and the spinner landed on Hermione. She dutifully drank, and Harry eagerly took his turn.   
The wand pointed at him, and lit up.   
"Oh, come ON!" He exclaimed, drinking again. "Really, guys?"   
They all snickered, and Harry felt a smile stretch across his face. He really couldn't be peeved when they seemed to be cooperating. Even if it was to his detriment.  
They kept spinning, and Harry couldn't help but notice that the wand kept pointing to him most frequently. He was SURE there was a conspiracy against him. Before long, the room was spinning, and everyone seemed to be full of laughter, and nothing seemed to be able to stay still.   
"Was this some *hic* plot, Malfoy? You're TRYING to get me drunk, aren't you? You've somehow cheated the game, so it keeps *hic* landing on me!" Harry accused, glaring at the blond in a suspicious way. Hermione giggled, and Malfoy gave him a LOOK.   
"I don't need to get you drunk, Potter. We're FRIENDS, now, remember?" Malfoy snarled, making Harry glare harder.   
"Friends, my ass." Harry grumbled. "Friends wouldn't *hic* conspire against me like this."   
"Conspire against you? Really Potter? You must think I have LOADS of free time, to just waste on thinking about you, and how to win some imaginary feud."   
"Really, boys…" Hermione's voice was lost as Harry spoke over her, arguing with Malfoy. He was fairly certain it was a good thing the room was spinning. If he could have, he was sure he would have tossed Malfoy to the ground.  
"Don't know why you'd even bother. I've proven that I could take you in my sleep!" Harry bragged, taking another throaty sip of his drink. He didn't quite recall that it was what was making him so thirsty in the first place.   
"In your sleep, really? How about sotted off your face? I bet you can't even stand up!" Malfoy egged. Hermione was leaning forward, saying something, but Harry paid her no mind.  
"I can too. See?" He pushed himself upright, and for a brief, dizzy moment, he was victorious. But then the rotation of the world seemed to catch up to his legs, and he tumbled to the floor, and laughter filled the room. His chest hurt from laughing, and he even heard Ron guffawing, and Hermione's chuckles, but when he saw the flushed laughter and pure joy on Malfoy's face, his chest squeezed almost painfully. He wanted to kiss Malfoy. He didn't even care if his friends saw.   
"Fuck you!" He spat through his laughter, which only made the giggles louder. Malfoy fell back, a hand clutching his shaking belly as he laughed, tears in his eyes as he squinted at the ceiling.   
For a moment, Harry felt blissful contentment. He felt warm, and loved, and everything was perfect. There was hope.  
"Fuck you, Potter. It's your turn." Malfoy finally suggested, pushing himself upright, and looking at Harry with a look full of meaning. Harry was startled nearly back to sobriety by his forward comment, and sat back up himself.  
"My turn? It's never my turn, Draco." He glared, sure that he took his meaning.   
"But it is your turn. Spin." Malfoy smirked, gesturing to the table. Harry could have slapped himself for his stupidity. Of course he was talking about the game. He spun, glaring at Malfoy. To his shock, the wand actually pointed at the blond, and he took a drink, still pink-faced from laughter.  
A loud snore startled them, and they both looked over to see Ron, who hadn't said a word in quite a while, his head tilted back on the sofa, his arm wrapped loosely around Hermione.   
"Why is it not surprising that Weasley can't hold his whiskey?" Malfoy drawled, smirking. Hermione gave him a reprimanding look that had no effect, and unwrapped Ron's arm.  
"Well, I think we'd better go. I'll get him to bed. Will you be alright, Harry?" Hermione spoke softly, even as she rubbed Ron's chest to wake him up. Her eyes flickered to Malfoy, and Harry nearly scoffed. She was worried if he'd be safe alone with the blond? She should have been worried about the blond…  
"I'll be fine. I'll make sure he behaves." Harry smirked at Draco, who glared at him as Hermione collected her and Ron's wands.  
"Alright. Come on, Ron. Up you get." She hoisted the tall redhead to his feet, and led him to the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and turned to fix Malfoy with a deadly stare. Even drunk, Harry recognized it, and felt a tingle of fear.  
"Don't you dare start anything, Malfoy." She warned.  
"Moi? What about him? He usually starts it." Malfoy replied with a smirk, and a look at Harry. Hermione's eyes darted from Malfoy's snide expression to Harry's defensive glare, and back. Harry was far too drunk to realize that her eyes narrowed, and she paused a moment too long.  
"Fine. Start whatever you want. Just don't make the morning papers." She shot to both of them, and disappeared into a rush of green flames. Malfoy chuckled, and Harry fell back to the floor.  
"You suspect we COULD make the morning papers, Potter? 'Hero Potter caught with his pants down! Death Eater ties, or something more sinister?'" Malfoy chuckled, and Harry felt his own laughter in his chest. He didn't doubt for one second that the Prophet would have a field day of accusing him of all sorts of nonsense if he let them find out about his little game with Malfoy.   
"That'd only be a possibility if I could get my pants down. I don't think my fingers are working…" Harry mused, lifting one hand to flex his clumsy digits.   
"Hmm… need some help, there?" Malfoy crawled over to him. And Harry stared up at the pale face, golden in the soft glow of the fire. He almost felt intimidated. He was VERY inebriated, and by the look Malfoy was giving him, he knew he had the upper hand.  
"Yeah, if you wanna just… suck me off, that'd be great." Harry mocked, letting his arms fall to the ground. Malfoy climbed over him, and bent down, nearly kissing, but just far enough away to be a tease. He knew by now that Harry wanted him. How Harry NEEDED to touch him. And he was using it against him.  
"Say please, Potter." Malfoy baited. Harry glared. In all their fooling around, all of their power games, he'd never begged Malfoy to touch him. It chafed that Malfoy would use his incapacitation to get him to do so now.  
"Fuck you, Malfoy." He growled, refusing to lose. He wasn't worried that Malfoy would leave. Surely if he did, Harry would be asleep too fast to regret it.  
"I'm sure you'd love to fuck me. Say please." Malfoy breathed into Harry's ear. Harry opened his mouth to curse the blond again, but whatever words he'd been thinking were washed from his mind as a wet tongue traced the curve of his ear. He breathed in, and his graceless hands grabbed at Malfoy, trying to push him off, and pull him closer, and pay him back for the sneaky move.  
Malfoy's tongue traced its way down his neck, and Harry arched into the sensation. Even when he was cooperating, Draco was rarely so generous with his interest. Harry wasn't sure whether to thank the alcohol, or his own limp state for Malfoy's sudden lavish attentions. Whatever the reason, he found it incredibly compelling, and knew he was already half-hard from just the few, simple actions.  
Draco's hand found his pants, and rubbed gently, quickly bringing him to full-hardness, and when he used his teeth to softly tug at Harry's ear, a moan escaped the tanned throat.  
"Say please, Potter, and I'll do it." Malfoy urged. It took Harry a moment to piece together what he meant. He was really offering to go down on him? Without complaint, or argument, or pretending he hated the very idea?  
"Please…" Harry breathed, unable to pass up the opportunity. His whole world was spinning, and tilting, and Malfoy was making it worse as he yanked and fiddled and disrobed Harry. Harry closed his eyes, and only reopened them when the movement stopped, and he could feel the warmth from the fire on his bare skin. He glanced down, and saw that he wasn't wearing a single piece of clothing. Malfoy had managed to strip him bare. He'd known that Malfoy liked what they usually did, but it was interesting to Harry that he'd go to the trouble of baring Harry's entire body. The way he was staring was also interesting. Harry was sure the Firewhiskey was partially to blame for the eager, excited way Malfoy was looking at him. He looked as though his eyes were exploring, appreciating what they saw. Harry felt strangely attractive as Draco looked at him. Usually things were so heated, he couldn't be bothered to think about what Malfoy actually thought of him, but as Draco looked down at him, he was more than intrigued.  
He didn't dare say anything, lest it break the strange spell that being drunk had cast over them. Instead, he bit his lip, and balled his hands on the carpet, waiting for Draco to touch him. The blond delivered before too long, reaching one unsteady hand forward. He traced it along Harry's body curiously, touching where his eyes had already explored. Harry lay still, watching Malfoy study the lines of muscle, the golden skin that contrasted his pale hand. His fingers skimmed the short trail of black hair that led from Harry's navel, and when his hand found the hard, hot shaft, his fingers traced that, too, with equal curiosity and gentleness. When his head dipped, and soft platinum hair brushed his skin, Harry was sure he'd died. Malfoy's mouth was warm, delicate, and felt like perfection. It was slower, and softer than he usually made Malfoy do it, and as the wet tongue swirled and probed, he found it just as enjoyable as forcing himself down the tight throat.  
It felt like being wanted.  
A soft moan slipped past his lips. He squeezed his fist tighter, struggling against the urge to grab the soft hair and guide Malfoy's rhythm. Malfoy worked slowly, steady in his oral exploration, and Harry could do nothing but enjoy it. He glanced at the fireplace, all too aware that Hermione might have forgotten something, could Floo back unannounced at any moment, and see them sprawled on the floor. He stared down at the blond strands of silk, and realized the riskiness of their position was more of an excitement than a deterrent. He tried to sit up, to grab Malfoy, kiss him, anything besides lying helplessly, uselessly, under the tortuously adept ministrations. The room spun dangerously, and he fell back without a reward. He let his eyes close, and knew from the lack of mouth on his skin that Malfoy must be looking down at him. He forced his eyes back open, and grinned up at the silver stare good-naturedly.  
"You may have to do all the work tonight. I'm seriously dizzy." Harry chuckled at his own uselessness. Malfoy smirked.  
"I think I'll manage." He drawled, and began pulling his own clothes off. Harry stared, enraptured, as inch after inch of alabaster skin was revealed. He was truly perfect. Soft lines of muscle, slim, without looking fragile, pale, with angelic features. As he pulled his last bit of clothing off, Harry stretched out a curious, unsteady hand, and let it trail down the front of that smooth, soft skin.   
"Christ, how much lotion do you USE, Draco?" He grumbled, wanting to grab handfuls of the pleasing flesh.   
"If you're lucky, I'll use enough that it doesn't hurt." Malfoy replied with a fair amount of snark. Harry felt a wash of panic. He'd never been the one to take it, before. Malfoy couldn't seriously expect to just change the game so abruptly, just because he was drunk?  
"Don't even FUCKING think about it, Malfoy." He warned, trying to prepare himself to wrestle Malfoy into submission. He wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to win. All of a sudden, Malfoy getting him sloshed on purpose seemed entirely likely. "How'd you manage to cheat, anyway? What was the trick?"  
Malfoy smirked at his rapid change of thought, and chuckled in a way that made Harry feel like he was being called an idiot.  
"Well, the one thing we three had in common was you, so, really it was just simple statistics that you'd be the one drinking the most. Hate the game, not me." Malfoy explained, spreading himself over Harry in a way that felt intimate, and dominating. Harry wasn't sure he hated the feeling.  
"I don't hate you." He admitted, his eyes mapping the slightly blurry face. Malfoy seemed to be making an expression, but not one he could read.  
"Well, I figured as much." Malfoy said, and leaned in, pressing his lips to Harry's ear, teasing the lobe with kisses, and his wet, trailing tongue. Harry grabbed him, pressing their bodies together, loving the miles of skin contact. "Afterall, I already knew you fancy me."  
Harry was surprised that Draco knew that. He'd never said it aloud. He'd barely even thought it to himself as more than a passing worry. But in his drunken state, it made perfect sense. They'd been having sex regularly, Malfoy had just spent the evening with his friends, and they'd actually had conversations that didn't end in a fight. On top of that, every time he saw his secret lover, his heart pounded in his chest with anticipation. He got excited when he decided he was going to stop by Malfoy Manor, more than just aroused. He found himself eagerly looking forward to seeing whether Malfoy was in a good mood, or a bad one. Either way, he generally had a good time.  
"Draco… do you… like this? More than just the sex?" Harry whispered, almost hoping that he hadn't been heard. But of course Malfoy had heard him. He heard everything, even things Harry didn't say aloud.  
"Why? Going to ask me to be your girlfriend? Fuck off, Potter." Malfoy replied with vinegar, nipping at the ear he played with. Harry groaned.  
"Fuck you, Malfoy, just answer the question!" He exclaimed, enjoying the feathery feeling between his fingers. When Malfoy pulled away, and looked down into his eyes hesitantly, Harry realized belatedly that he'd been fondling the platinum hair. Malfoy's cheeks were pink, and his eyes darted back and forth, searching for some trap. Harry decided to take a leap of faith.  
"I like it." Harry admitted, "I… like you. Surprisingly." Harry added, still confused about WHY exactly, he seemed to fancy Malfoy. Sure the sex was amazing, but… that was it, wasn't It? It was really all Malfoy could give him.  
"I like it, too." Draco whispered, his palms flat on Harry's chest as he blushed darker. For a brief, insane moment, Harry wanted to blurt the word 'love'. But that was ridiculous. It was impossible, and it was crazy to entertain such a stupid notion. So he grabbed Malfoy, and pulled him down into a kiss, drowning the word with molten, tangible emotion. Malfoy kissed him back, and draped naked over him, seeming lost in the kiss, Harry recalled how angry he'd been when he arrived. He gently pulled his lips away, not wanting his question to drift away on his fuzzy, jumbled train of thought.   
"What happened today, anyway?" He breathed, unable to open his eyes for a moment, as the world tilted.  
"What do you mean?" Malfoy sounded more defensive than confused, and Harry grinned.   
"You seemed stressed earlier. What happened?" He pressed. He opened his eyes in time to see Malfoy roll his.  
"Oh. THAT. Nothing." Malfoy grumbled, leaning in for another kiss. Harry tilted his head away again, and pressured the topic.  
"Nothing, my arse. Tell me." He ordered. Malfoy groaned, and let his head fall to Harry's shoulder in defeat.  
"My parents tried to set me up with some French witch." He stated. "Think I need to get married, start a family, produce an heir. Absolute rubbish. There's YEARS for that nonsense." He grouched. Harry laughed. He couldn't stop it. He could just imagine Malfoy trying to produce an heir, and being unable to finish, as he died of humiliation, wanting the rough, forceful treatment that Harry had spoiled him with.   
"It's not funny, Potter." Malfoy growled. Harry barely felt the short nails that were clawing his arms in warning.  
"Of course it is!" Harry gasped. "Just think, some witch would marry you for your money, and I bet in a month, you'd be BEGGING me to teach her how to handle you!"  
"Handle me!?" Malfoy looked furious, and as he tried to roll away, Harry held him, rolling on top of him. "Fuck you, Potter! No one 'handles' me!" He was pushing, squirming, desperate to be free in a way he hadn't been in so long. Harry did his best to stop the laughter, but only managed, when he finally got a good look at Malfoy's face. He looked furious, and… trapped. Could he really NOT get free? Harry took a moment to do his best at assessing the position of their naked bodies, and the red-faced effort Malfoy was exerting to remove him. Except… Harry wasn't moving. Harry realized he had hold of his wrists, and was pinning him. Like second nature, he had stolen all of his leverage, pinned his hips, and easily outweighed him, with the very muscles that Draco had commented on being so heavy a few months ago. He knew he'd put on even more muscle, and the almost-fear of being truly unable to escape him was so strange to see on Malfoy's perfect face. Harry loosened his grip, and grabbed his face with one hand, pressing their lips together roughly, as Malfoy shoved at him, sputtering profanities against Harry's mouth.  
"Get off of me!" He sounded livid, and Harry grinned.   
"Make me." He challenged. Malfoy's wand was still on the coffee table, safely out of reach, and now he knew, even drunk, he'd win a physical fight.   
"Fuck you!" Malfoy spat, going limp, in a new form of protest. Harry looked down at him, suspicious. Harry took hold of his wrists again, proactively restraining him, he forced them back above Malfoy's head, pinning him again. He held them with one hand, and repositioned himself using every sloppy bit of control he had. Malfoy was struggling in protest again before he was done, and as he settled comfortably between jostling, milky thighs, he recognized Malfoy's arousal, his half-hearted struggles, and stared into his eyes as he plunged deep into the heavenly heat. Malfoy's cheeks were flushed, and he winced in pain, going deathly still as Harry tried to find a rhythm. Harry watched as the pain faded from his face, and he glared angrily up at green eyes.   
"Tell me, Draco, that I'm not handling you right now." Harry taunted. "Tell me you wouldn't beg for this if all I did was suck you off for a month."  
"Ffffuck…" Malfoy cursed in response. He gave one more attempt at pulling his wrists free, and then slumped in defeat, not bothering to pretend he was humiliated as he moved his hips wantonly against Harry's.  
"You're such a slut, Draco…" Harry murmured, pressing their lips together, and working his way into the open, willing mouth.   
"Ffuck- uh- you…" Malfoy managed, between kisses, in a gasping voice.  
"Shh… I'm trying to concentrate here…" Harry teased, "Don't want to accidentally hurt you…" he was only half-joking at that, aware with every movement that he was putting too much weight on the delicate wrists, and pushing his thighs wider than could be comfortable.  
"I don't fucking care if you hurt me." Malfoy ground through clenched teeth, doing his best to speak without moaning. Harry grinned, and wrapped rough fingers around his slender throat. He squeezed, knowing it was probably too hard.  
"You sure about that?" Harry asked, doing his best to ignore the way the world tilted and lurched with his every motion.   
"Fuck… just…" Malfoy was gasping, unable to breathe properly around Harry's grip, but still, he managed to form words, and Harry was impressed. "Don't… kill me…"   
Harry was slightly startled by the words, and let go, bracing himself on the floor, he stared down at the blond as he coughed, and caught his breath.  
"Are you serious? You like pain THAT much?" He asked, not even aware that he'd paused completely in surprise. The watering dark grey eyes were an anchor in his tilting world.   
"It's… it's not the pain. I don't MIND the pain, but… no. That’s not what I like." He clarified, meeting Harry's gaze, unwaveringly. Harry blinked down at him. He was SURE that meant Malfoy must be getting off on some other aspect of it, but for the life of him, he couldn't imagine what.   
"I'm VERY drunk, right now, Malfoy. I might ACTUALLY hurt you… So you need to be VERY specific about what it is you DO want." Harry did his best not to slur his words, but looking down at that face, he was finding it more difficult to form words than the alcohol usually made it.  
"Fuck, Potter! You're so fucking dense!" Malfoy cursed, looking pained in a wholly unphysical way. "I like YOU. Alright? Everything you do. It's just… it's like… I don't have to think. You just… do it, and it's great, and sometimes it's bloody, or leaves bruises, and… that's okay. Choke me, bite me, call me names if you fucking want, just… dont… stop." He sounded nearly anguished as he spoke, so Harry took pity on him.  
He began thrusting, deep, arrhythmic thrusts, letting his hand dance across pale skin with abandon, and occasional malice, scratching, pinching, grabbing. Silver eyes fell closed, and a soft pink mouth opened to let sounds of pleasure escape. The world blurred into a haze of body heat, velvety skin, and white-hot passion.   
Harry had woken in his bed the next morning, unsure how he'd gotten there, but he had brief flashes of.memory of Malfoy atop him, eagerly fucking himself on Harry's stiff cock. When he realized that there was a weight on his chest, and glanced down, he was met with a faceful of white-blond hair, right under his nose. He inhaled the scent that came with it, and had relaxed back into the pillows, willing to ignore his pounding head until his human blanket woke up. Even if it did wake up with comments about his bed being too small for two people, and the sheets being low-quality. He knew, no matter what Malfoy insulted about him, or his home, or his friends, he would come back regardless, and suffer all in the name of that thoughtless well of passion, and the warm, melting feeling that came after._

XXX

"Harry, are you feeling alright?" Hermione asked softly. Harry jolted, and shook his head to clear it of the sticky cobwebs.  
"Yeah, fine, just thinking. I can see how that might've tipped you off." Harry nodded. "Why didn't you ever tell me you knew?"  
"Well, I saw how happy you were, and I didn't want to scare you into giving that up. When you got married to Ginny, I just figured it didn't matter, but… I've seen how you're getting. I was going to suggest you see someone, a marriage counselor, but… I don't think that’s what you need." She spoke softly, but her words felt like a slap to his face. He couldn't believe what she was saying.  
"You think I SHOULD cheat on Ginny?" Harry asked, appalled.  
"No! Not at all! I'm just saying… I'd understand if you had. Or, if you want to, I dunno, actually try being friends with Malfoy. I think… I can't believe I'm about to say this, but… I think he might ACTUALLY be good for you." Hermione looked apologetic, begging him not to be cross with her.  
He sighed. He couldn't be angry at her. Just like he couldn't stay mad at Ginny, or Ron, or Draco.  
"I don't think being friends is a possibility." He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, and stretching a bit. "I didn't cheat on Ginny, but I wouldn't say things went WELL, either."  
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, leaning forward. Her hand had stopped rocking the bassinet, so Harry reached out, and took up the action.  
"It was… too much. I'd thought the pain would fade, like grief, you know? But… seeing him, being in that house… seeing Scorpius… it was… too much." He felt clumsy trying to explain, but Hermione just nodded.  
"I think I understand. I take it the… tension?... Between you two never got properly resolved?" She sipped delicately at her tea. Harry let out a bark of laughter.  
"Not even a little. I never told anyone, but… he showed up to my wedding. I'd thought he'd understand, that we were friends, but… I was sooo wrong. He was furious. Pretended to be all cheery and even congratulated me, until he got me alone. I thought he was going to curse me, or Ginny, or…. Set the place on fire. He was out of control. I was actually a little scared of him, of what he'd do, or say. But… he just screamed a lot. He tried to get me to call the whole thing off, tried to get me to… um… anyway, I didn't, and… he left, and… I didn't see him again until this past Friday." Harry felt a heat in his face, and a pricking behind his eyes. A moment later, a sniffle escaped him. Hermione practically jumped to her feet, and darted around the baby and the table, and wrapped her arms around him, smothering him in comfort, and the scent of family. Harry tried to push her away, tried to hold back his stupid, uncalled for tears. Neither worked, and in moments, he found himself sobbing into her chest with his arms wrapped around her. He felt like a giant baby, sniffling and bawling, but as he cried, and tormented himself with memories of a perfect white smile, glittering silver eyes, and a furious, jealous explosion of platinum and alabaster, cloaked in black, BEGGING him not to do it, he felt relieved. At last, he wasn't the only one carrying the knowledge. Hermione knew. He knew. Draco knew. Draco's wife had known before she died. By the laws of probability, he knew more people were bound to find out. One person could keep a secret. Four people was an uncontainable leak. It felt as if the secret was already out. All that was left was damage control. His life was already miserable, he couldn't imagine how it could get worse, except, maybe, if Malfoy left again.  
Harry managed to sniffle himself to a stop, and pulled away from his best friend, nodding when she asked if he was okay. He looked at Rose, still sleeping soundly. He thought of a perfect, white-haired baby, sunlight filtering through high windows, shining off of long blond hair, a rose-covered gazebo, and devastated, storm-colored eyes that stared at him as he explained why he was marrying Ginny.  
"I'm sorry, Hermione, I can't babysit. I have something I have to do." Harry abruptly stood, and headed for the door.  
"Are you going to Malfoy Manor?" She asked astutely. Harry paused.  
"I don't think Ginny will ask, but if she does, you can tell her where to find me. Don't bother lying for me, Hermione. I'm sick of the dishonesty in my marriage."  
"Alright. Harry… um… I'm not telling you to commit adultery, but… don't feel too guilty if you do." Hermione said, looking at him with an almost sad expression that he inspected for a moment. He nodded, and left her house, feeling a surprising stab of pain at what that look had meant.


	7. Guilty Apology

Harry apparated to Malfoy Manor, and barged through the front door without bothering to knock.  
"Master Potter! Master Draco is not expecting company! I'll let him know you've arrived if you please will wait!" The familiar elf was practically running after him as he strode up the grand staircase. He paused, taking pity on the creature, as it huffed for breath.  
"I'm not waiting. Tell me where he is, please." Harry asked, as politely as he could. His heart was racing, and he felt the need to move, to finally head in the direction he wanted.  
"Master Draco is in Master Scorpius' nursery…" the elf wheezed. Harry smiled.  
"Thank you. Why don't you rest for a bit." He listened to the small, breathless elf's outrage at his suggestion all the way up the stairs.  
He slowed his steps and walked quieter as he approached the nursery, listening as he walked, to the soft, melodic sound of that familiar voice, quietly reading a book aloud. He stepped into the room, pleased that he'd managed to sneak up on the blond. He sat in front of a cradle, his back to the door, his warm voice filling the room like a bewitching fog.   
Harry tiptoed up to him, a smirk growing on his face as he approached. When he was close enough, he grabbed the blond, using one hand to cover his mouth, and the other to grab his arm, preventing him from grabbing his wand.  
"Don't wake the baby." Harry breathed, as wide, startled grey eyes found his. Malfoy's expression changed to outraged confusion. "We need to talk." Harry said, and nodded toward the door, taking a moment to stare down at the perfect pink baby swaddled and pillowed in pure white silk, before he joined Malfoy in the hall and let the door close.   
"Binky." Malfoy said, confusing Harry for a moment, and startling him as a house elf stepped forward, huge eyes staring up at Malfoy eagerly. "I have business. Feed Scorpius if he wakes up. Come get me if there are any problems, don't worry about interrupting, and don't bother knocking." Malfoy ordered, waiting just long enough for the elf to nod, and disappear inside the room, before he led the way down the hall. Harry was surprised when they stopped at the study, one door down from the bedroom. He’d been inside once or twice, but never for long. As Malfoy took a seat behind the large, carved desk, he found himself appreciating the gesture of formality. It showed that he was trying to respect Harry's decision to stay faithful to his wife.  
"How can I help you, Potter?" Malfoy asked, lacing his fingers together atop the desk. His face was a carefully crafted mask of polite interest. Harry swallowed, still recalling the absolute fury and betrayal that his face could show.  
"I wanted to apologize." Harry started. Malfoy's face flickered with disbelief, and irritation, but he nodded for Harry to continue.  
"I'm sorry I married Ginny, and I'm sorry I got engaged to her without talking to you at all." Harry said. Malfoy stared at him, eyes narrowed, hands clenched together in a silent show of anger.  
"Apology not accepted. Will you be leaving, or would you like to sneak around my house more?" Malfoy asked sarcastically. Harry sighed. He should have known it wouldn't be that easy. He closed his eyes, and tried to find a sliver of patience.   
"I'm not leaving until you forgive me." He warned, glaring at Malfoy. "Whatever it takes, I don't want to leave with you still hating me." Harry knew it was a dangerous offer. He could demand anything as penance. The evil smirk on his face said he knew it, too.  
"Whatever it takes? Fine. I don't hate you, you're forgiven. See yourself out." Malfoy stood, and was almost to the door when Harry caught him.  
"I'm serious, Draco. I don't just want empty words." Harry declared. Malfoy glared at him, and shook his arm free.   
"I don't hate you. I just want you to leave." Malfoy said, looking away. Harry stared at him a minute, exploring the slightly aged face, the way he stood, the way his fingers picked nervously at his robes.  
"Fine, I'll accept that, but you still haven't forgiven me. Not really. I'm serious about this. It means a lot to me." Harry admitted, feeling slightly vulnerable with the words.  
"It means a lot to you? Suddenly, the past means something to you?" Malfoy scoffed. Harry winced, and braced himself for the rant he knew was coming.  
"Oh, well, that changes everything! Somebody call the papers, Saint Potter has feelings!" Malfoy barked. Harry stared, not bothering to defend himself from Malfoy's verbal assault. "I suppose, since it means a lot to you, I'll just let it go. Because YOU feel bad, I'll forgive you for absolutely wrecking my life! I'll forget everything that happened, and we can pretend we never STOPPED hating each other! How's that, Potter? We can stick our heads in the sand, and forget anything EVER happened. Does that work for you? Merlin knows we have to cater to whatever works best for YOU! In fact, I don't know why I even came back! I have no idea what I was thinking. Things were fine as they were. Should I be gone by morning, or do I have until the end of the week to get back to France? Is France still good for you? I can go farther. I hear New Zealand is nice. Or maybe I'll be the first wizard to build a mansion on the moon, just so I NEVER have to see your stupid face, EVER again! It would actually be perfect. I could get a new wife, and the moon would be so cold, I wouldn't even notice the difference in sleeping alone! FUCK you, Potter, and FUCK your apology, and FUCK your sudden need to be absolved of being a piece of shit!"   
Harry realized he was cringing by the end of it. He felt as if every word Malfoy shouted was a ball and chain of guilt dragging him to the bottom of a lake of misery. He was sure, if he hadn't cried all over Hermione, he would have started crying, just over the guilt that Malfoy's fury slapped on him. He managed to keep his reaction in check, and as Malfoy's anger outgrew words, and he stood, hands balled into fists, chest heaving from his rant, Harry thought he was still beautiful. Even furious, ready to spit vitriol, and fire, Harry couldn't be upset with his angry accusations.   
"I think I'm in love with you." The words were out of his mouth before he'd even thought about saying them aloud. It was too late to take them back, though, and he watched as Malfoy's anger seemed to grow, his words only acting as fuel on a fire of indignation and resentment.  
"Oh, really? You THINK you're in love with me? That's just sad. You THOUGHT you wanted to marry that redheaded bint, and before that, you THOUGHT you liked what we had going. Before THAT, you thought you hated me! I suggest you figure out your head, Potter. I have a child, now. I'm RESPONSIBLE for that tiny bundle of life. I can't afford to let you overturn my life, just because you THINK you have feelings deeper than a puddle."  
Harry flinched, and took a moment to gather his thoughts, and courage. He took strength from Hermione's calm acceptance, and Malfoy's obvious emotion.  
"Fine, I'm in love with you! I've BEEN in love with you, I've just been too stupid to realize, or admit it, or whatever! The point is, you can't leave again. You can't just take Scorpius, and vanish to another country, because I swear to god, Malfoy, I WILL come after you. I'm sick of my fake marriage, and I'm sick of missing you, and I'm sick of this stupid, boring life without you in it. I can't live without you. Please don't ask me to." Harry begged, realizing that he sounded hopelessly desperate. If he was Malfoy, he would be disgusted by the sound, but the grey eyes that met his weren't full of disgust. He seemed to be considering the words, and Harry watched his face twitch through different reactions. Finally, it settled into a wary sneer.   
"You seem to be living JUST fine without me, Potter. I could leave tomorrow, and you would forget I ever existed, just like you did last time. Boredom never killed anyone, so you'd be FINE." Malfoy argued, poking a finger into Harry's chest. Harry stared down into angry silver pools, his thoughts a hurricane of emotion and needs. Malfoy was provoking him, physically touching him, and TRYING to upset him. Harry knew he wanted him to lose control and get physical back, so that in the aftermath, they could blame the situation, not themselves. But it would still be adultery. He'd hoped to just talk things through with Malfoy, and then have words with Ginny, but… clearly Malfoy didn't want or need to talk. The angry challenge his eyes held was all the invitation Harry needed to know that if he was unfaithful to Ginny, Malfoy would forgive him. He'd be setting one piece of his life on fire, for just the possibility that Malfoy would actually reciprocate after he'd gotten what he wanted.   
Harry leapt at that chance, unable to let the opportunity pass by. He snatched Draco by the neck, and brought their lips together, kissing him more fiercely than he'd ever dared to kiss Ginny. He drug his fingers through the long silky strands of hair, and grabbed handfuls of dark, expensive robes, pushing Malfoy bodily backward. The feeling of kissing him again, finally touching him, breathing in his scent, was a deep relief that seemed to sooth everything wrong in his life.   
Harry backed him against the desk, pleased that the blond was kissing him back. He wasn't bothering to struggle as he grabbed back at him, pulling, biting, and desperately trying to get closer to Harry. He lifted the blond easily to sit on the desk, and wedged himself between parted thighs. Between frantic hands, and pressing bodies, Harry managed to move Malfoy’s robes around his hips, and quickly undid his trousers. With a bit of wiggling from the blond, the pants were discarded to the floor, and they both began working on Harry’s Auror robes. Harry ignored the way his hands shook nervously, fumbling to open the fly of his pants, cursing the many buttons of his work uniform.  
As he popped open the last fastening, and his erection sprang free, he shoved parchment, quills, and desk clutter clattering to the ground, pushed Malfoy down onto his back, and leaned over him. He shoved expensive fabric out of his way as he pressed his bare sex to Malfoy. He groaned, and paused, enjoying the warmth of skin against his, and already feeling too close to finishing. He pulled his wand from his disheveled robes, and cast a quick, wordless charm, one he’d learned before he’d even thought to marry Ginny, one he hadn’t used since the last time he’d been so close to Draco. Malfoy gasped at the sudden cool wetness, and Harry smirked, dropped his wand to the desk, and held his cock steady as he lined himself up.   
He hesitated for only a brief, breathless moment, staring down into an eager silver stare, and dismissed the stab of guilt he felt. THIS was what he wanted. He could sort the rest out after he’d fixed this. He absolutely could not let this slip through his fingers again.  
He held Malfoy’s gaze as he entered him, watching his face warp with expression. There was surprise, relief, and then enjoyment. Harry moved slowly, savoring every inch of the tight heat he sank into, every soft breath from Malfoy’s lips. When he was fully immersed, he paused, the briefest moment spent marveling at what he’d done. There was no going back. Only committing, fully, to this moment, to this future. He pressed a violent kiss to Draco’s lips, and began fucking him in earnest, harsh, rough strokes that slapped skin against skin. He yanked at blond hair, forcing the head back, and sank his teeth viciously into a soft pale throat. Malfoy groaned, and Harry felt him tighten in response. He didn’t slow his pace as he snatched his wand back up, slashed at the air, rending fabric, and vanishing troublesome shoes. He tore away what little remained covering his prize, and pressed his body down onto the other, relishing the familiar feel of him, the feel of his breath heaving the pale chest against his. The feeling of hands grabbing his hair near-painfully. He could feel Malfoy's erection being pressed between their bodies, and he took pleasure in knowing he had the same effect on Malfoy as Malfoy had on him.  
As he felt his balls tighten, and feared he'd finish too soon, he felt the change in Draco's body, the tightening of his muscles, the pitch of his voice, and the slight trembling as his climax painted their bellies. Harry kissed the satisfied blond as he came shortly after, unbothered by the slippery mess between them.   
When they were both spent, Harry took a moment to catch his breath, resting his face on white skin and he huffed in oxygen. He felt Mafloy’s soft chuckle under his head before the sound reached air.  
“Being married make you soft, Potter?” The blond taunted, and Harry lifted himself from the breathless body to glare down at his newest guilt. Teasing silver eyes met his, and Harry felt his stomach lurch at the provocation that filled them. It’d been so long since he’d had sex at all, and even longer since he’d felt so intensely aroused. He’d finished too quickly. He wasn’t done with his lover yet, and it seemed Draco, though he’d also cum, wasn’t ready to quit.  
“Not even a little. Just taking it easy the first time, so you don’t cry.” Harry retorted, as he picked up his wand. Draco’s eyes followed the motion with sharp interest, and Harry grinned down at him. “In fact, I’ve learned a few new things while you were away. Though… None of them from marriage…” Harry mused, shoving his hand under Malfoy’s back, to wrap his arm around the slim frame in a firm hold. He took a single soft breath to steady himself, focused, and rolled himself sideways, pulling Draco with him into the uncomfortable vice of apparation.   
The hardest part of the move was that naturally, as he rolled, his mind would expect to end on his back, as if he hadn’t apparated. But with the magic that transported them, when he focused, and ignored the vertigo of the short roll, he could arrive with any orientation he liked. So as the brief squeeze of magic ended, he felt as if gravity had reversed, his body expecting to be on its back, instead finding itself upright once more, and kneeling on a soft, plush bed, with a rather dazed looking blond beneath him. Draco shook his head, clearly feeling the same strange sense of altered physics. Harry grinned down at his confounded expression, and tossed his wand easily to the familiar ornate bedside table. It seemed nothing in the Manor had really changed since he’d last been here, which suited him just fine.   
He quickly took the soft pink mouth again, savoring a few slow, deep kisses. The kind he’d missed most. As his arousal quickly took charge once more, he let himself go, enjoying Draco in a way he hadn’t enjoyed anything in so long. His hands played brutally across the beloved pale body, and his every abuse was eagerly accepted. He held out longer the second time, switching erratically between his vicious pleasures, and a slow, torturous worship of his love.  
As he fell, exhausted and spent, into slumber, all the guilt he’d felt had vanished. He held Draco’s limp form in his arms, and for the first time in years, he felt peaceful. He knew tomorrow would be rough, filled with harsh emotions, but he didn’t care just then. For that moment, everything was perfect.


	8. Admissions of Infidelity

Harry paused at the door of his house, steeling himself to go inside. He’d almost rather take down a hundred Death Eaters at once than cross that threshold, but finally, he worked up the nerve, and went in.  
“Harry! I was worried! Where were you?” Ginny was awake, despite that it was hardly past dawn, and for the first time since his lips had touched Draco’s the previous day, Harry felt a stab of guilt.   
“I was at Malfoy Manor.” Harry ran a hand self-consciously through his hair. He’d done his best to tidy himself up before he’d left, but he knew he must still look a mess. He hadn’t bothered to do up all of his buttons, he knew his lips must be swollen, his usually messy hair was a disaster, and he feared he smelled like the other man. Like sweat, and sex, and expensive cologne. He’d been pulled back in for a last minute tumble by a supine blond when he’d tried to give a simple farewell. He knew their last coupling would be lingering on his skin, the sweat would be making his hair even more chaotic. But even here, in front of his wife, at the memory of the night he’d had, the dark morning hours spent satisfying his languid lover, his cock gave an exhausted twitch.   
“That’s what Hermione said, but… All night? What on earth were you talking about so long?” Ginny asked, crossing her arms petulantly. Harry swallowed nervously. He could beat around the bush, but it had never really been his style. He preferred the blunt approach.  
“We weren’t talking. I slept there.” He sighed, and took a seat in a plush chair adjacent to the couch that Ginny occupied. He couldn’t bring himself to sit next to her just then.  
“You slept there? What, were you drunk, or something? You don’t smell like you spent the night drinking…” Ginny observed, leaning in slightly to give him a sniff. Harry met her gaze steadily.  
“Ginny… I slept there, with him. I slept with him. I cheated on you. I’m sorry.” Harry said, though he felt no regret. He knew what he’d done was immoral, that he should have waited until after he and Ginny were truly through, but… He didn’t regret it.  
“You… what? But… You’re not queer, Harry. Just tell me what really happened?” Ginny denied. Harry sighed, and sank back into the chair he sat on, feeling as if the conversation were tedious, even though he knew it was necessary.  
“I’m not so sure, anymore. I don’t fancy other guys, but… I don’t really fancy other women either… Just him.” He explained. “I thought I fancied you, but… it’s a different kind of love. I’m sorry, Ginny… I think I want a divorce.” As the words left his mouth, a weight lifted from his chest. He’d said it. Finally, after years, he’d said the words, and there would be no taking them back.  
“Really?” Her voice held both despair and hope, and Harry nodded sagely, meeting her blue gaze with honesty.   
“Really. We’ve both been unfaithful, and we want different things from our lives. A divorce is for the best.” He assured her, noting the shock in her eyes. She wasn’t sure how he knew about her own infidelity, but she wasn’t going to ask.  
“I don’t want a divorce.” She argued, but he wasn’t sure she meant it. Her voice wavered slightly, and her eyes were guarded. He gave her a pitying look, knowing she was simply saying what she thought she ought to say.  
“Ginny…” He sighed her name, and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was making it very difficult. “Just… go be happy. However you want to be happy. Just do it without me. You can keep the house if you want, or sell it. You can demand alimony, hell, you can even drag my name through the papers if it’ll make you feel better. But… this is over. I’m in…” He had to swallow, and felt his cheeks heat as the words came to his lips. “I’m in love with Draco, and I’m tired of pretending I’m not.”   
When he looked back at his wife, she had tears sparkling in her eyes, and an upset flush on her cheeks. Her jaw was set, and she stood, glaring down at him. He braced himself, ready for shouting, or being hexed.  
“I don’t want the house, or your money, Harry!” She stomped her way to the fireplace, wiping the angry tears from her lids. “I’ll be at mum’s. Come talk to me when you realize how stupid and crazy this is.”  
With that, she snatched a handful of floo powder, and disappeared in an angry shout and blaze of green flames. Harry sat for a moment, feeling a lump rise in his throat. She just refused to believe that he was through with her, and it was breaking his heart more than the knowledge of both their infidelities. 

* * *

Harry held the sleeping blond bundle, and sang in a whispered voice, letting the tiny face and even tinier breaths soothe his breaking heart. Here, at least, was one person who he could easily please.  
“I didn’t know you had come back.”   
The soft whisper startled him, and he spun in his seat to see Draco coming through the door of Scorpius’ room.   
“You were asleep when I got in.” Harry murmured, squeezing the baby tighter as he sleepily stretched at the sound of his father’s voice.  
“Well… How’d it go?” Silver eyes were guarded, and Harry was careful how he chose his words.  
“She refused to believe things were over… I filed the paperwork for divorce after she left. I don’t think she’ll want to speak to me after the owl delivers the copies for her to sign…” Harry mused, recalling the way the elderly wizard who’d helped him through the single horrible roll of parchment had explained the process as Draco stood next to him. A light touch ruffled through his hair, and he looked up to meet the soft silver gaze. He looked as if he shared Harry’s heartbreak, and Harry leaned into the touch, finding it both strange in its newness, and enjoyable. Before he could grow used to the gentle sensation, the fingers tightened, and the silver gaze seemed to harden a bit. Harry winced a bit at the sudden change of tone, but said nothing as Draco leaned in.  
His lips were warm, soft, and followed by sharp teeth. Harry hissed at the painful snap, but as Scorpius shifted in his arms again, he pulled away from the kiss. Draco frowned at him, and Harry smirked. He stood to place the sleeping infant back in his crib, staring at him a moment, filled with a warm love and hopefulness that he hadn’t felt in years.  
When he turned to face Draco, he caught the same emotions on the blond’s face, and pulled him roughly into another kiss. He couldn’t help himself. He felt as if he was freefalling into pure emotion, a mixture of hope, love, and fear filling his every thought as he tried to drown himself in the kisses. When hands tugged at him, pulling him toward the door, Harry grinned maliciously into the needy kisses, and wrapped his arms firmly around Draco. A moment of quiet struggle was all it took for him to take the blond to the floor. He easily trapped his love, who struggled carefully so he wouldn’t wake the child, and not nearly enough to free himself. Finally, he broke the kiss, and hissed quietly at Harry.  
“We’ll wake Scorpius!” He warned, even as Harry’s hands showed no mercy, tugging the simple robes he’d donned open, and sliding one hand up to cover his mouth. Sharp shards of silver pierced him as he smirked down at the muffled face. He relished the look of indignation, and knew he couldn’t bear to let him up, even if they risked disturbing the baby.  
“Then you’d best be quiet, hmm?” He said, even as he wrung a groan of pleasure from the pale throat, one of his hands fondling the semi-erection that was already present from his attentions. Draco managed a brief glare at that teasing statement before his eyes fell closed. Harry watched him struggle against the arousal for a moment, and his face slowly warp into rapture. He let his hand slip away, and kissed his way to the soft pink mouth, licking and sucking the lips he’d already gorged on the previous night. It still wasn’t enough. Wet slippery kisses connected them as Draco struggled not to make a sound under Harry’s assault. To his surprise, he’d made barely more than a choked moan before the twitching heat of orgasm met his hand.   
Accusing eyes blinked open to stare at him, and Harry could do nothing more than smirk down at the perfect response. If this was to be his life, he could find himself easily intoxicated by simply living every day.  
Once, he’d been unable to imagine a future where he wasn’t married, with a gaggle of dark-haired children to call his own. He knew he could never marry Draco, that the only child he’d have wouldn’t be HIS, and in that moment, between being rolled to his back, and warm lips find their way to his own arousal, he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than a future filled to the brim with two blonds, dancing a fine line of surreptitious pleasures, and not-too-horribly scarring the child they would raise together. It wasn’t what he’d imagined for himself, but it was perfection.


End file.
